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magpiepills · 9 months ago

Text

Divining Rod

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Silva x wife reader, Silva x Jake

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: Silva returns after a trip to town to see an old friend.

Warnings: smut! PIV, PIA, hurt, very little comfort, thigh riding briefly, infidelity, m/m, love triangle, time period appropriate inappropriate use of alternative lubricants, unsafe sex, unrequited feelings, no happy ending.

A word from the author: this is a repost! This is my contribution to filling in the blanks of Silva’s story as presented in the film. We know he has a son, and has likely impregnated a woman the old fashioned way. We know he had a sexual relationship with Jake. As a matter of safety and social expectations in 1910, we know it’s unlikely that Jake or Silva could have been out and living openly as gay or bi men. I wanted to explore the relationship Silva may have had with the mother of his son without making it cute or sweet or romantic. I love westerns, and SWOL is a good western.

Do not come in here with any bi erasure. This blog is queer and we don’t tolerate that.

Four days have passed since Silva left. He rode into town, promising to come back with flour, lard, rice, beans, gun powder, and fabric for a new dress. He kissed you goodbye, and rode away into the purple morning, hips swaying gently atop his chestnut horse.

He looked so handsome in his green coat, you wished he’d have taken you once more before he left. Laid you across your wide feather bed, naked for him, cunt dripping arousal onto your quilt. You wanted to feel full the way only he could make you, crying out his name, breathless under the weight of his broad body. As you stood at the kitchen window, looking out over the silent ranch, you thought of him and how he alone had known you this way, only he could give you what you needed. That evening after you’d finished the chores on your own you squeezed your thighs tight, held one of his handkerchiefs to your nose and longed for him until you fell asleep alone once more.

Silva was gone for five days. He returned in silence, threw a bag of rice into the table, and went to tend to his horse. You wanted to run to him and bury your face in his chest, let him bunch your skirt around your waist, and fuck you in the soft hay in the loft the way he did in the halcyon days of your youth. The days when he brought you to your climax in ways you’d never imagined on your own, taking his time with his fingers and his tongue, then his cock, so thick and heavy, tan as the back of his hand and flushed with lust. He was a divining rod for your desire. “Yes” he would groan, “take it just like that. Come on. That’s it.” He would put all his weight into your hips, driving his cock deep with his eyes shut tight. The stretch made you feel warm all over, and your release was the only relief. He could be rough, taking what he needed, pushing and pulling your body into his until he moaned and nipped at your neck, spilling his seed on the rough boards of the barn floor. After so long apart, you needed him in that primal way.

You knew you couldn’t ask him, though. You couldn’t run and jump into his arms. When he returned from those trips to town he was sullen and quiet. You didn’t know why. You didn’t know he had gone to the sheriff, didn’t know how he’s carried on in secret, under the guise of being “two men on a ranch doing things that needed done. Branding cattle and mending fences.” In town they were cold and hard, firm handshakes and steeled gazes. Inside they lived another life. Silva on his knees, taking Jake into his eager mouth, feeling as his turgid member grew. Silva hollowed his cheeks and relaxed slowly down Jake's generous length until his mustache met the soft curls at the base of his lover’s cock. Silva’s eyes were soft and pleading as he gave himself to the older man, but his looks of love were never met. Not like this. Neither were they when they were in the creaking bed, Silva’s moans and curses muffled in the pillows. Jake was not tender and sentimental, he preferred to be straightforward and so he simply told Silva to take his pants down and get into bed. Of course he had complied and fucked down into his fist while Jake eased his thumb into his tight ring of muscle, working slowly and steadily, letting saliva drip down onto his fingers to ease his way before replacing his two fingers with his cock. The tenderness between them began and ended with Jake's hand on Silva’s shoulder, and Silva’s hand over his mate’s. Slowly Jake pulled back before pushing in again, squeezing the soft fat of his ass and easing his way with whatever oil he could find in town until he came with a shout. “Fuck. Fuck!” Feeling the pulsing in his ass, Silva came hard into a handkerchief. Jake could never love him like he needed him to, so Silva just took what he was given. A handshake, a promise to see each other again soon, and an uncomfortable ride home.

You only knew that going into town always made him poor company for a few days after. So you didn’t ask questions. You didn’t ask about the other supplies or what news he had heard, or even who he saw. You heated water on the stove and dragged the big wash tub into the front room for him so he could wash where it was warm and soak for a while if he wanted to. Silva was obliged and peeled off his layers of clothes, throwing them into a pile for washing later. “I’m so glad you’re back safe. I missed you every day.” You cooed at him soothingly while you soaped his back. As you washed his hair and carefully rinsed it, you massaged his tense shoulders. If you’d looked closer you’d have seen the faint bruises on his hips, remnants of the lover he would never leave. Instead you forged ahead. “I thought I’d make a stew when you get done and we can go to bed early tonight.” You hoped he would understand what you were asking for, but he glowered. “You go on to bed, I need to check the fences.” His voice was cold and flat. You couldn’t deny the hurt you felt at his rejection, but you wouldn’t let him see it.

You took a breath, and gathered his dirty clothes in your arms. His outer clothes were dusty, but the inside layers were clean, save for his rust colored undershirt. The one he looked so handsome and strong in, you loved how the fabric stretched across his shoulders and chest, hugged his strong arms and his soft belly alike. The shirt you loved to see him peel off as he walked toward your bed and told you all the things he was about to do to you. That shirt was clean save for a dried white stain splashed across the back, stiff and flaky, unmistakable. Silva saw as you connected the dots in your mind. “Just leave it. Go. Let me finish.” You tossed the clothes back down and saw the handkerchief fall from his pocket, tell-tale stains all over. Your hurt boiled into anger. “Are you trying to make a fool of me, Silva? You’re gone for almost a week, all you bring back is a sack of rice, you won’t make love to me, and you smell of cum. What do I say to you?”

Silva was incensed. He stood quickly from the washtub, his wet body shining in the glow of the kerosene lamps, hair wet and slicked back. If he wasn’t unfaithful to you he would have been the prettiest sight you’d ever seen. “You don’t say anything to me. You don’t ask me any questions and you don’t expect any answers!” He was red and bellowing, quaking with his misplaced anger. “I give you everything you need and I care for you. Isn’t that enough? Or don’t I fuck you enough? Is that it? You’re a desperate slut and you can’t wait for more? Well?” You couldn’t answer him like this. You shook your head and turned to go, but he was out of the tub and holding you against his chest before you could make it to the door.

“Take this off. If you want my cock so bad, I’ll give it to you.” His hands moved to unbutton the front of your dress, he was careful with the buttons despite the anger in his voice. He was thawing. With your arms out of your sleeves he pushed you into the wall, holding you there with his thigh between your legs. The wild look in his eyes made your cunt throb against it. He covered your mouth with his and kissed you hard and deep while his hands gathered your skirt and found your ass, digging his fingers into it, he pulled your core against his thigh, grinding it firmly into your center. Unsatisfied, he pulled away to lift the pretty dress over your head while you untied your slip and let it fall at your feet. Both of you naked now, you looked at each other, catching your breath before he picked you up and carried you to bed.

“Silva please. I need to know you’re mine.” You whined into his neck while he slid his hard cock against your folds, wetting them with your own arousal.

“What do you need? Tell me.”

“Need you inside. Need to feel you.”

He couldn’t be gentle now. He had to pour every ounce of his hurt, anger, confusion, despair, love, lust, jealousy and desperation into you tonight, had to transfer his feelings the only way he knew how. He notched at your entrance, taking time to tease your clit with the weeping head of his cock, and entered slowly, backing out slightly, then pushing further, repeating the pattern- back- forth- forth- back-forth- forth until he was as deep as he could get, and settled there. He kissed you and sucked your nipple into his mouth as he plucked at the other, teasing your nipple into a hard peak. The sensations were everything you wanted, fully engulfing you like a bonfire he had set. You needed more. You bucked your hips, nudging him to move, to meet your thrusts. You could only move as much as the mattress would allow until your love relented. He kissed up your chest and sat up tall on the balls of his feet. He liked you like this, helpless beneath him, needy, wanton, begging. “Is this how you want it? You want it hard like a whore? Want me to tell you I’m yours? That there’s nobody else?” “Yes, yes, please. Just fuck me. Please!” You needed your release. Feeling how full he made you had you so close to tipping over the edge that if he would just give you a little more you could reach it. Instead he moved slowly, circling his hips, quiet so you could hear how wet you were, hear how you whined and cried out for him. You heard him breathing hard too though, how he needed this just as much. “Let me come, Silva. Pleasepleaseplease!” He began fucking you faster, licking his thumb and pressing it against your clit. He could feel you squeezing him as you got closer, and he doubled his efforts, feeling generous now. He drove into your pussy. “Take it. Take all of me. Look at you, you’re so good for me, my love, I want you to come for me. Come on my cock so I can fill you.” He babbled meaningless filth at you and held your hips down with one hand over your mound, stroking your clit, and the other reaching up to cup your tit. That was enough. Your orgasm rolled over you like a heavy wave, and he fucked you through it, dragging it out until you settled, then closing his eyes to cover your stomach with his cum.

You wiped yourself clean with a towel, then threw it onto the rest of the semen covered laundry. When you washed it, hung it out to dry, then folded his handkerchief to tuck into his bureau, you knew it was just a matter of time until he went back to his lover.

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