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By now, everyone in the Wild East knew exactly what time it was. Monsters shuffled closer, shutters were cracked open, and a hush of anticipation rippled through the crowd gathered in the town square like a held breath.
Then, North Star stepped out.
He moved with the kind of confidence that only came from repetition. His boots kicked up sand with practiced weight, poncho fluttering dramatically in the light breeze. His hat was tipped low, shadowing his eyes just enough to make them unreadable. The badge on his chest caught the light, flashing bright and deliberate, as if he wanted the swelterstone itself to acknowledge his authority.
You felt it immediately. That tightening in your chest. That inconvenient flutter low in your stomach.
It was ridiculous, really. You’d seen this performance dozens of times. Everyone had. North Star, the fearless sheriff, keeping order in a town that didn’t actually need it. But today— today he seemed sharper, more alive than usual (and wasn’t that saying something?). His voice rang out as he spoke, rich and commanding, each word chosen to carry.
“Alright, Vergil,” Starlo drawled, turning slowly toward the edge of the square. “We can do this the easy way, or we can make this fun for the folks.”
Vergil burst from behind a crate, hollering and flailing dramatically, playing his part with exaggerated panic. The crowd ate it up. You, however, barely noticed. Your eyes stayed locked on Starlo instead… the way his shoulders squared, the way his gloved hand hovered near his holster, just itching to show off his shooting skills.
The chase was brief but theatrical. Sand kicked up, boots skidded, and Starlo moved like he knew exactly where Vergil would go before he even did. When he finally caught him, it was almost unfair. One smooth motion, an arm twisted behind Vergil’s back, Starlo leaning in close enough to murmur something the crowd couldn’t hear.
You swallowed. Part of you wished you were in Vergil’s place.
Up close like that, Starlo looked different. More focused, more intense. The playful bravado sharpened into something confident and dangerous, something that made heat bloom under your skin without permission. When Starlo shoved Vergil forward and pressed him to the ground with a boot between his shoulder blades, the crowd cheered.
You swallowed again, harder this time.
Starlo tipped his hat again, grinning wide as he addressed the crowd. “Town’s safe once more!”
Applause thundered. No one clapped more enthusiastically than you did.
Your pulse raced, eyes tracing the familiar lines of Starlo’s form as if seeing him for the first time. There was nothing subtle about the way your gaze lingered, nothing staged about the way your breath stuttered.
And when Starlo’s eyes flicked over the crowd and landed on you, the grin he gave was slower. Knowing.
The crowd eventually dispersed, laughter and applause dissolving into the clatter of doors and fading footsteps. The square returned to its familiar quiet, grains settling where excitement had been. Starlo lingered just long enough to soak it in— one last tip of the hat, one last grin— before ducking down the narrow side street that led near your shared house.
You followed without being asked.
Inside, the building was cooler. You shut the door behind you with a soft, deliberate click that made the sound feel heavier than it should have. Starlo was waiting, leaning back against it with arms crossed loosely over his chest. He still had that same confident swagger about him, riding the high his performance allowed him.
“Well,” he drawled, eyes flicking over you slowly, appreciatively. “You sure were… passionate out there today.”
You hesitated, suddenly far too aware of how close he was. Up close, the bravado hadn’t faded; it had sharpened. There was a restless energy to him.
“I was watching,” You replied simply.
Starlo’s grin widened, slow and satisfied. “Oh, I know.” He pushed off the door and took a step closer, boots thudding softly against the floor. “Hard not to notice someone starin’ holes clean through me.”
Heat crept up your neck at his words. “You were… convincing. You’re always a good performer.”
He laughed under his breath, clearly pleased. “That so?” His hand came up to his bandana, tugging it loose, the movement casual but intentional. “Funny thing about playin’ a role for so long— you start learnin’ exactly how folks like to look at you.”
He stopped an arm’s length away. Close enough that the faint scent of sand and leather still clung to him. Close enough that you could see the way his confidence softened just a touch around the edges, turning into something more personal. It always did with you.
“You liked it,” Starlo said quietly. It wasn’t a question.
You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.
Starlo hummed, clearly enjoying that far too much. “Careful,” he teased, tilting his head. “You keep lookin’ at me like that, and I might start thinkin’ you prefer the monster on stage to the one off it.”
His fingers brushed yours— light, fleeting, unmistakably deliberate. “Though,” he added, voice dropping, “I reckon I can be pretty entertainin’ either way.”
For a moment, neither of you moved. The room felt smaller, quieter, like the rest of the town had slipped away entirely. Starlo’s eyes searched your face, playful confidence giving way to something warmer, more intent.
“Tell me,” he murmured, stepping just a fraction closer, “did I make the show worth stickin’ ‘round for?”
You lifted your chin slightly, meeting Starlo’s gaze instead of shrinking from it. “That depends,” you hummed. “Is the sheriff still performing, or is this the part where he drops the act?”
Starlo barked out a short laugh, clearly delighted. “Oh, that’s a dangerous question.” He circled you slowly, boots thudding against the floor, like he was still working an audience. “You lookin’ to criticize my technique, or you just hopin’ for an encore?”
You turned to keep him in sight. “You seemed awfully proud of yourself out there. Thought maybe you’d need someone to keep that ego in check.”
He stopped directly in front of you again, close enough that the space between you felt intentional. “Funny,” he said, eyes glinting. “You didn’t look all that bothered by it.”
Your lips twitched. “I never said that.”
Starlo leaned in just enough to test you, his voice dropping into something low and amused. “Didn’t have to. Folks clap when they’re impressed. You—” his gaze flicked briefly to your mouth before returning to your eyes, “— you clapped louder than anyone else, darlin’.”
You felt the words settle between you, heavy and warm. “It’s good to show my affections every now and then. I know how much approval means to you.”
That did it. His grin shifted, less showman and more sincere now. “Yeah. You’d be right ‘bout that.”
He reached out, thumb hooking lightly under your sleeve. A question disguised as a tease. “Tell me somethin’. If I hadn’t been wearin’ the badge and the hat… would you still be lookin’ at me like that?”
You didn’t answer right away. “You know damn well I would,” you huffed. “What, are you planning on giving another performance? Or do you save those for when you’ve got an audience?”
Starlo chuckled, low and pleased. “Sweetheart, you are my audience right now.”
His hand shifted, brushing your wrist again, slower this time. The touch lingered just long enough to feel deliberate. His voice softened, but the teasing edge stayed sharp. “And I gotta say, yer makin’ it real hard for me to tell where the performance ends.”
You leaned in a fraction, close enough that his breath brushed your cheek. “Maybe you just don’t want it to.”
For a heartbeat, Starlo didn’t speak. His confidence didn’t vanish— more like it focused, zoning in completely on you. “Careful. You keep talkin’ like that, and I might forget I’m supposed to be the one doin’ the distractin’.”
The room felt like it was holding its breath with you.
“So,” he added, eyes dark and amused, “what’s it gonna be? You gonna keep challengin’ me, or you finally gonna show me how much you enjoyed the show?”
You tilted your head, studying him with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “Maybe,” you said lightly. “Depends though, really. Why should I have to take initiative? Are you too shy?”
Starlo scoffed, but it came out half a beat too fast, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I ain’t shy.”
“Oh?” You took a small step closer, just enough to invade that carefully maintained space of his. “Then why are you blushing so much right now?”
He opened his mouth to retort, then closed it again. His jaw worked briefly, like he was searching for the right line and coming up empty. “You’re imaginin’ things.”
You smiled, slowly and knowingly. “Am I?”
You reached up, not touching him yet, just hovering near the brim of his hat. You were close enough that you were sure he could feel the heat of you, close enough to make the moment stretch. “You sure seem comfortable when everyone’s watching. But right now?” Your eyes flicked up to meet his own. “It’s just me.”
Starlo swallowed. It was subtle, but unmistakable.
“Well,” he rasped, trying for his usual drawl and only mostly succeeding, “that’s ‘cause yer askin’ dangerous questions.”
“Ironic,” You murmured. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”
You finally brushed your fingers against his hat; just a gentle nudge, tilting it back enough to expose his eyes fully. The confidence was still there, but now it was tangled up with something warmer and unsteady.
“There you are,” You said softly. “That look is a lot cuter than the sheriff glare.”
His breath hitched.
“Don’t—” Starlo started, then stopped himself, cheeks warming despite his best efforts. “You can’t just say things like that.”
You raised a brow. “Why not? You spend half your time showboating, and I compliment you once and suddenly you’re shy again?”
“I am not shy,” he insisted, voice cracking just enough to betray him.
You leaned in closer, close enough that your foreheads nearly touched. “Starlo,” You said gently, teasing threaded through every syllable, “you’re practically vibrating.”
For a second, he looked torn, like he didn’t know whether to laugh, retreat, or lean forward. When he spoke again, it came out quieter. Softer.
“…You’re doin’ this on purpose.”
You grinned. “What, am I distracting you? Thought you said that was your job.”
That earned a small, breathy sound from him. It was barely there, more felt than heard— a faint, involuntary whine slipping out before he could stop it. His eyes widened immediately afterward, mortified.
“I—” He cleared his throat, flustered now. “You didn’t hear that.”
“Oh,” You said sweetly, absolutely not letting him off the hook, “I definitely did.”
He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “This is unfair,” he muttered. “Yer not supposed to turn the tables like this. I’m the sheriff, dang it.”
You leaned back just enough to meet his gaze again, expression warm and victorious. “Guess you shouldn’t have looked so good out there, then.”
He peeked at them through his fingers, still flustered, smiling despite himself. “Yer trouble.” He was clearly pleased with the compliment.
“Mhm. And you like it.”
There was no denying that now.
He let out another slow breath, shoulders rising and falling as he gathered himself. When he looked up again, something had shifted. The flustered warmth was still there, but his eyes had sharpened, confidence settling back into place like his well-worn bandana.
He caught your wrist before you could pull away. It wasn’t rough, but it was certain.
“Alright,” he said quietly, thumb pressing into the inside of your wrist, right where your pulse fluttered. “That’s enough of you havin’ all the fun.”
Starlo stepped forward, backing them toward the wall with steady, deliberate movements. One hand came up to brace beside your head, palm flattening against the wood, boxing you in without fully trapping you. The other lingered at your waist, fingers splayed wide, grounding and warm.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doin’?” he murmured, leaning in close enough that his voice brushed your lips. “Teasin’ me like that… watchin’ me squirm.”
“Seems like you handled it fine.”
He huffed a soft laugh. “Oh, I did.” His thumb traced a slow line along your side, just beneath your ribs, sending a shiver through you. “But now it’s my turn.”
Starlo didn’t rush the kiss. He hovered before your lips a heartbeat longer than necessary, letting the heat build, letting you feel the weight of his attention. Then, he closed the distance.
The kiss was deep and unguarded, confident in a way that stole breath away. His hand at your waist tightened slightly as he leaned in, anchoring you, while the other slid from the wall to cradle the back of your neck. His thumb brushed just under your jaw, tilting your head to fit him better.
The world narrowed to warmth and pressure and the slow, deliberate way he moved— pulling back just enough to breathe before pressing in again, deeper this time, more needy and ravenous. His grip softened, then tightened, as if he couldn’t quite decide whether to savor the moment or lose himself in it.
A low sound slipped from his chest— contented, heated— before he finally broke the kiss, foreheads resting together as he caught his breath.
“There,” he murmured, voice rough now, confidence worn and real instead of performed. His thumb continued to trace lazy circles at your waist, unhurried. “That’s better.”
You didn’t give him time to settle back into teasing remarks or clever lines. Instead, you caught the front of his poncho and tugged, hard enough to make his boots scrape the wooden floor.
Starlo blinked, surprised, then laughed. “Well now—”
“Come on,” You said, already pulling him toward the stairs. “Unless you’ve suddenly lost that confidence.”
That earned you a look. He let himself be dragged, but not without reclaiming a bit of control, his hand sliding from your wrist to your waist as soon as you stepped forward. His grip tightened possessively, steering you just as much as you were steering him.
“You’re in a hurry,” he murmured against your ear, voice rough with heat. “You ain’t typically the impatient type, darlin’.”
You glanced at him over your shoulder. “Impatient? You’re one to talk. You didn’t seem to be taking it slow when you were the one pinning me to the wall.”
He shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Fair point.”
The moment you were inside your bedroom, the door barely had time to close before Starlo’s hands were on you again; one at your hip, the other sliding up your back to draw you flush against him. He kissed you like he’d been waiting for it the entire day, deeper and more insistent now, confidence fully reclaimed.
He broke the kiss only to grab your hand again, tugging you towards the bed. You let yourself be pulled, taking in his darkened gaze, fixed on you like he’d already decided how this was going to go.
“You ain’t got no idea how badly I need ya right now,” he growled, low near your ear as he positioned himself between your knees. “Tell me I can, sweetheart.”
A sly smirk curled up on your lips at his words. “Of course, sheriff. With that performance earlier? I’d say you’ve more than earned a little… reward.”
Starlo licked his lips before beginning to undress himself, with you doing the same. You watched with rapt attention as he took off his hat and glasses, then his bandana, poncho, and belt. He paused as he began to undo his trousers, glancing up at you one last time to ensure it was truly alright.
Upon seeing your already undressed form (and the half-hard erection you were sporting), however, he resumed the removal of his clothes until he was in the same state as you.
“Seems like I’ve got a pretty damn good effect on ya, huh?”
You chose not to answer, opting to grab him by his shoulders and pull him down closer to you. He shivered as you began to sloppily pepper kisses along his neck, lips brushing over his racing pulse. He looked like it was taking him every ounce of his willpower not to just hike up your legs and take you then and there, but he held himself back.
Starlo's breathing was ragged, chest heaving with the force of his desire as he attacked your neck with lips, teeth and tongue. He licked and nipped at your skin, sucking hard enough to leave livid purple marks behind before soothing the sting with the flat of his tongue.
“Come on, Star, enough already… I need you…” You groaned, shifting against him until his cock was brushing against the cleft of your ass. Your own dick was now completely hard and aching, a small droplet of precum beading at the tip. “Need you inside me.”
Seeing no reason to resist any longer, Starlo reached down and slid two fingers into your back end, groaning at the way your walls fluttered and clenched around the intrusion. You already seemed so ready for him, and it made his heart race and cock pulse with a desperate, aching need. He pumped his fingers in and out of your tight channel, curling them just so to stroke that spot that made you cry out, your back arching off the bed in pleasure.
"That's it, sweetheart, let me hear you. Let me hear how much you need my cock inside this sweet ass," Starlo all but whined, his voice rough and low with lust. “Angel, I know I do.”
“I do, fuck, Star, please—”
After a few more moments, he pulled his fingers away and replaced them with his cock. With a swift, sharp thrust of his hips, Starlo lined himself up with your now-prepared entrance and pushed forward, sinking his thick, hard length into your tight heat inch by delicious inch.
"Oh fuck," Starlo groaned, his voice strained with the effort of not pounding into you immediately like some sort of wild animal. He waited until he was fully sheathed inside you before he began to move, his hips rolling in a deep, sensual rhythm that had him stroking every inch of your sensitive walls. “So good, so fuckin’ good…”
Your moans grew louder and more frequent as Starlo began to fuck you in earnest, your nails raking down his back and legs wrapping around his waist as he did so. You could feel every drag and push of his pistoning cock, could hear the wet, obscene sounds of your coupling filling the room.
“Star, angh, yes! Fuck!”
Your desperate cries only seemed to fan the flames of his lust, causing his hips to snap faster and harder against you, driving his cock deeper. "Fuck, darlin’, you like that? You like feelin' my big, hard cock stretchin' out this tight ass?" Starlo panted, his voice a low, rough rumble that sent wonderful shivers down your spine. He leaned down to trail his lips along the column of your throat, nipping and sucking every now and then.
You jolted as you felt a clawed hand wrap around your warm, hard cock, beginning to stroke you in time with his thrusts. You let out a raw moan as he began to spear his cock into you with each upstroke, nearly knocking the breath out of you each time.
“Gonna fill you up so good, sweetheart… give you a real performance to remember…” Starlo huffed against your neck, breath hot enough to cause your skin to tingle. “Come on, darlin’, give the sheriff a round of applause… mngh, fuck!”
Your eyes rolled back in your head as the feeling of his fingers curled around your length and his cock plunging into you became too much. Ropes of your pearly seed splattered between you, and not long after, Starlo snarled, his hips slamming forward one last time before he buried himself to the hilt inside you. His body shuddered and jerked as he came hard, his cock erupting deep inside your fluttering hole. Thick, hot ropes of cum pumped into you, painting your insides white as his orgasm crashed over him like a tidal wave.
Starlo collapsed onto the bed beside you, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath in the aftermath of your intense fucking. To your satisfaction, he pulled you close, wrapping his arms around your naked body and tucking you against his side, tail curling possessively around your waist. The rattle tip of his tail brushed over the curve of your ass, tracing idle patterns on your skin as he held you.
“Hah… ah, fuck, I needed that. Especially with how damn attractive you were out there earlier,” You muttered after a short moment of catching your breath. “You had me pretty worked up, you know. It really was a great performance.”
“Was it, now?” A tired, pleased grin curled up on his lips. You couldn’t see it since he had his face buried in your neck, but you felt it against your skin all the same. “How about an encore, then?”
“… Don’t push your luck, sheriff.”