Gunslingers Thief Ch 01

(This story has been edited and slightly rewritten. This is mostly for ease of the readers, but also to improve the story. My thanks to Penny, who took the time to read the original version and offered tips on how to improve it. Also, a note - This story is based on Stephen King's Dark Tower series. Time period inconsistencies are intentional, and do not need to be pointed out. Thank you and enjoy!)

"Ah, shit."

Maggie looked up from the floor, tangled in a blanket, and took the time for a lazy stretch before standing. It was the man still lying in bed that had brought the mild oath from her mouth. He lay on his stomach in the damp sheets, motionless, with his face turned away.

Maggie had woken up to this sight too many times before and, with a soft twinge of guilt, began to silently berate herself. She had promised herself that she wouldn't do things like this anymore. A promise meant to be broken, it seemed. Well, it was time she moved on anyway.

Quickly and silently, she collected her things and slipped into some clothing, making sure everything was in good order. She moved to the door, ready to leave, and paused. She might as well finish the job and clean the poor fool out. Sorting through his things was easy, the fellow had more than a few things of value, but that was yet another reason to move on.

She took a moment longer to arrange one or two items in the room, making sure they looked just so, then slipped out of the room and shut the door softly. As she made her way down the hall, she smiled and flirted with two other boarders, enjoying the warmth of their gazes.

"Just make sure you keep yourselves quiet this eve', boys," she teased. "Young Mister Seymour looked as though he could sleep with the dead just a moment ago. I'm afraid he'll need all the rest he can catch."

The young men chuckled and murmured their appreciation, their hungry eyes following her around the corner. Maggie left instructions with the maids that the "young mister" was not to be disturbed until breakfast time the next morning and made her farewells with the rest of the residents. There were many that confessed they would be sorry to see her go, though she was sure many of the women were more than a bit pleased. She was surprised at the number of people she truly did know and realized that she had stayed much too long.

"I've become soft," she half muttered to herself, stepping outside. She had allowed herself too many luxuries this time, and may have even aroused the suspicion of the local thief's guild. That was something she definitely wanted to avoid, she shivered to herself.

"Soft? You say that as if it's a bad thing."

"Alex!" She jumped, startled, then turned to the young lawman, almost pouting. "You scared me."

"Ah, cry pardon, my dear," he slid a very familiar arm around her shoulders. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you. Where's Young Mister Seymour?" He mimicked the way her voice normally lilted her patron's name.

Her heart skipped a beat. Of all the idiots in this town, Alex was the only one with half a brain. She didn't think he could prove anything, but he probably knew some of her nocturnal habits. "He's resting in his room, I'm afraid I wore the poor lad out," she murmured, her voice like silk.

The young man chuckled and nodded, looking her over properly. Everyone knew she was very easy on the eyes, much to the annoyance of some of the towns more settled ladies, but few knew that her hands were skilled at more than just pleasuring men. Today she wore a nice, but simple skirt and blouse, both a little worn, and a pair of well traveled boots. The blouse clung to her in the cool breeze, outlining her pert breasts nicely and causing her nipples to become more visible. Her chest wasn't as large as some of the other girls, but on her petite frame, they were more than enough. The same breeze flirted with her skirt, making it more than apparent, to any who happened to be paying attention, that she had precious little on beneath it. Still, with all of this beauty before him, Alex frowned.

"Going somewhere, are we?"

She smiled and shrugged, as if to say, what can be done? "I've stayed much too long, lawman. It's time to feel the trail beneath my boots again."

After a moment or two he nodded, allowing a slow smile to cross his face. Something had changed about her - there was a sense of urgency in her mood that she was hiding more than well. "Well, then. Perhaps I can accompany you for a way?" His gentle smile struggled to show her that he was a friend, not a patron.

"Perhaps ..." she paused, debating whether or not to trust him. "Perhaps one last ride on that stallion of yours?" Her delicious lips curved into a smile. She did need to leave town, and fast. If he would give her a bit of a ride, perhaps she could find some way to help him.

Alex chuckled, picking up the innuendo. "Perhaps...."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Damn it, Maggie!" Alex yanked the young lady's face closer to his crotch and shot his load deep into her throat, loving the milking motions that pulled at him as she swallowed. Gasping for breath, he released her and leaned against his horse for strength. Panting, she grabbed a spare cloth from her rucksack and cleaned herself up.

"Even?" That mischievous smile danced on her lips again, lighting up her face. He hesitated before answering, trying to memorize how she looked in this moment. In the middle of this dry, sparse land, with fields that stretched on forever before meeting with the sky, it wasn't something Alex thought he'd ever forget. "Yes," he admitted, sounding slightly wistful. "Are you sure you don't want to stay?"

Her smile softened. Out of the whole town only he and Young Mister Seymour had ever captured her affection, and, privately, she was glad that she had not had the opportunity to get as close to Alex as she had to Seymour. If she had done to him what she had to her patron ... well, she .... It didn't matter, though, she shook her head to her self. Not now.

"I wish I could, lawman. I really do," She hesitated. "Call it... Ka."

Knowing in his heart that she spoke truthfully, the young man looked down at his boots for several long moments, bit back a harsh word or two, and sighed heavily aloud. "Well..." he paused, at a loss for words. "If you keep traveling this road, you should reach the next town by nightfall. And remember – no matter what, you'll always have a friend in Langston."

Her heart touched, she smiled again for him, more than a little saddened this time. If he knew what she had just done ... "Just keep me in your thoughts, lawman, and say a prayer for me whenever you can."

"Aye, lovely, I will." He remounted his horse and watched as she continued down the path alone. Her wild hair, her sparkling eyes, and her steady gate – he tried to burn this image of her into his memory while he could. What was she running from? Or to, for that matter. He sighed softly to himself and shook his head again. Whatever happened, she still had his guns to count on, whether she knew it or not. Looking after her retreating form one last time, he hissed at his horse and started back to town. Something told him that she left more than just sad faces and tears behind, and he wanted to be there to give her as much of a head start as he could.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Another day was ending in the dead lands, and she had just entered the outskirts of the town, when Maggie saw the sudden flare of light and accompanying red glow of someone lighting a smoke. Although it was getting darker, the sun hadn't set completely and the fact that she hadn't noticed the fellow until now unnerved her. He looked hard and worn, but the guns at his waist looked well oiled, almost new. A lawman?

"So," his voice a lazy drawl as he drew at his smoke. "What brings you to this dark, shadowy town... after dusk, no less?"

Maggie watched him cautiously, but with interest. He looked a touch older than her, and he seemed to have seen his share of life's shit, but something about him intrigued her. Her skills and her instincts told her that he traveled alone, and those guns.... Now that she was closer, she could see them better, even in the waning light. No, not a lawman - he was a gunslinger. Like anyone else, the sight of him drew a feeling of awe from her... at least, until he spoke next.

"Not a safe place for a sweet young lady like yourself." It was added almost as an afterthought, but the arrogance behind the comment annoyed her.

"I travel for my trade," she snapped back. "It takes more than darkness and shadows to scare me, thank you kindly."

Releasing a trail of pungent smoke, the gunslinger laughed heartily at her bothered tone. Infuriated by his laughter, the young lady brushed past him, stumbled, and fell. Swiftly, the man reached out and steadied her. She clung to his arm for a moment, gathering both her balance and her breath. She was amazed, it was as if his touch sent lightning radiating throughout her body.

"Dalis," he spoke with muted force, releasing his hold on her arm.

"Maggie," she replied gently. "My thanks."

The gunslinger removed his hat in a grand, sweeping gesture and bowed, his head almost touching the ground. "Well met, fair lady."

She couldn't help but laugh as she backed away from him. The sight of him bowing was amusing enough, of course, but most of her glee was at lifting this fool's purse so easily. "Yes, gunslinger, very well met." Her voice betrayed her smile even as the darkness hid it.

Unfortunately, his reflexes were fast and he reached out, snagged her sleeve, and pulled her back before she knew what was happening. "Not so fast, milady," he reached into her skirt nonchalantly. "I'll take that back."

Maggie pulled away, blushing deeply and more embarrassed than she could ever remember being, but the gunman pulled her back and kissed her before any arguments or objections could slip past her lips. His strong hands found their way to her hips and held her body close to his. Her heart pounded heavily, and she realized that she was still worked up from the kindness she had offered her friend earlier. She could feel her body reacting in the most delightful ways, and for a moment, a brief moment, she gave in and returned this stranger's delicious kiss. The moment was over in a flash, though, and she nearly yanked herself away, daring to slap him in her ire.

The gunslinger let out a sharp bark of a laugh, releasing his hold momentarily. It was rare that someone could catch him off guard like that. Impressed, he ran up behind the furious girl of a woman, as she made her way deeper into the town, took her by the arm, and pulled her into a nearby alleyway.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanding, resisting as well as she could. The nerve of this man, even if he was a gunslinger!

"Will you spurn me this easily, milady?" The gunslinger asked through wolfish grin before kissing her again, deep and slow. He slid his tongue into her mouth and Maggie felt herself melt again. This man was something else, she admitted grudgingly. Her knees threatened to give out, but his strong grip held her up, pinning her against the wall. Unfortunately (or was it?), his hands didn't stay put for long. They slid under her ass, pulling one leg up to intensify feelings for both of them, but as good as it felt, the stranger had underestimated her stubbornness. Trying to remember that she didn't want this sort of reputation in town just yet, she attempted to push him away again.

"No... get... off...." She didn't sound very convincing, even to herself.

Ignoring her weak protests, he held her firmly against the wall, pushed his bulge against her belly, and kissed her deeply, exploring her mouth without hesitation. She struggled in his grip, but found herself melting again, and a soft groan escaped her lips. Taking this as a sign of surrender, he slid her skirt above her knees, moved his hips into hers, and let out an appreciative murmur. Realizing she was fighting a loosing battle, Maggie groaned again, but knew she had to make one last attempt to save her pride.

"No," she grunted, and somehow managed to connect her hand with the gunslinger's face once more. His eyes narrowed, he definitely didn't seem amused this time. He back handed her and pushed his tongue into her mouth as she gaped in shock. He pressed his strong body against hers, unzipped his pants, and let his guns drop.

The sound of his zipper was more than enough to bring her back to her senses and she started struggling again. "Do it and I'll scream," her whisper threatened.

The gunslinger said nothing, but narrowed his eyes again. Almost casually, he smacked her across her other cheek and ripped her panties off, drawing a cry of outrage from her. He started to push his cock into her open pussy while standing, grabbed both her wrists, and shoved his tongue into her mouth before she could call for help. Roughly, he held her wrists above her head, pushing his root fully into her. She wanted to struggle, she tried to struggle, she was certainly angry enough, but all she could do was groan into his mouth as he filled her up. Feeling how wet and tight she was, he shoved his hips forward hard, slamming into the back of her pussy, and rotated his hips.

Quite unable to help herself now, her groan was muffled easily by his kiss, and, unknown to her, he took a leather strap out of his shirt pock as her resolve to fight weakened. Quickly, he bound her wrists together and had them hooked them over a stud in the wall above her head before she knew what was happening.

Realizing her situation too late, she cried out in frustration. "No!" she groaned. "Let go of me you bast-" Cut off by his now free and roaming hands, she bit back a moan as they slid down to her hips and pulled her hard onto his cock again.

A smirk crossed the gunslinger's lips as the moan escaped hers and he slid his hands back to her ass, lifting her up and pushing himself in and out of her delicious cunt. She nearly glared up at him, not sure what to feel. The man was a fucking bastard, but he was making her feel things that she hadn't felt since ... since ... since she couldn't remember when. What the hell, she finally gave in, she might as well enjoy herself. She didn't bother hiding her sensual moan as she wrapped her legs willingly around his waist. Encouraged, he slid his teeth over her neck, and almost reflexively, she leaned her head back, exposing her vulnerable throat to his whims.

"Bastard," she whispered, moaning as he left a dark bruise on her delicate flesh. Her breath became heavier and he hooked his strong arms under her knees, holding her body against the wall and spreading her apart at the same time. She gasped at the sudden change in position, giving him a wild and lustful look. He returned her gaze fiercely and began a hard, slow rhythm.

"Oh yes," she gasped, her eyes drifting closed.

His wolfish grin returning, he slowed his thrusts even more – all the way out, then all the way in – holding it, pushing into her groove and moving his hips.

Each thrust pulled another gasp from her. "Please," she begged.

"Yes, kitten," he whispered back hoarsely. "I know what you want." He let his pace quicken slightly. She groaned her approval and begged for more, her voice soft and pleading. He groaned deeply himself and obliged, fucking her harder, deeper, and was rewarded with the feeling of her pussy stretching around him.

"Please! God! Yes!" She cried out, trembling slightly and on the verge of release, and as she tensed around him, it drove him over the edge. He thrust into her, hard and deep, one last time, and exploded inside her. She cried out again, arching her back, and then let her head drop to his shoulder, panting and exhausted.

Gently now, he took her arms down off the hook and unbound them, letting her crumple to her knees before sliding his wet cock into her upturned mouth and down her throat. Despite her fatigue, she sucked him eagerly, almost gagging herself at first.

"Easy, kitten," he whispered hoarsely, forcing her to slow a little. "Taste our cum, yours and mine, mixed together..." A deep groan prevented anything else, but Maggie had an idea of what to do. She moved her mouth a bit faster, taking the whole length, and licked him clean, wondering at how good they tasted together.

Gently, he lifted her to her feet, and she stood on wobbly knees as he pulled up his pants and strapped on his guns. She blushed as she watched him, suddenly feeling vulnerable and shy.

He smiled gently at her. "Come with me tonight, milady. We'll get a room, a hot bath, and you'll sleep indoors tonight, between clean cotton sheets."

Maggie blushed and smiled again. What was it about him that called her to go with him? His voice? His face? His strength? She moved toward him. Whatever it was, she did have her own life to look after, and she really should be careful. He slid a gloved hand across her jaw as she pondered, and caressed her cheek.

"That would be nice, but..."

"But what, lovely thief?" He stood with his head cocked to one side, hands on his hips, listening.

Inspiration came to her suddenly and she pulled away from him, gazed wide eyed behind him, over his shoulder, and backed away a few steps. The gunslinger spun quickly and drew his guns, but there was nothing save the shadows of dusk to shoot at. As he heard the young lady's laughter move away, it dawned on him that the thief had finally liberated his purse. Laughing long and loud, he watched her form flee to the shadows only to pause about a block away.

Maggie jingled the coins, making sure he could hear them, and tucked them safely away again. "My thanks for your hospitality, gunslinger," she called, more laughter in her voice.

"Amazing," he whispered. Still chuckling, he turned to walk further into town, his boots clocking on the boards. She saw the smile on his lips as he rolled and lit another smoke, humming some long forgotten tune.

"You as well, gunslinger," she murmured and then hesitated. Maybe she should rethink this. Obviously he was more than capable of defending himself, and he did seem rather fond of her ... maybe she could use him as a sort of body guard. At least until she decided to move on. Of course, there was also the gut feeling that said that she belonged with him, and that was a voice that she seldom, if ever, ignored.

Grinning, she ran to catch up with her new friend. She knew he heard her approaching, but he never slowed or turned. He stopped as soon as she caught up with him, though, a slight smile at the corners of his lips and something in his eyes.

"I'm glad you changed your mind," he murmured softly.

"Well," she smiled almost shyly. "I'd hate for a gentleman like yourself to sleep in the cold. Besides, seems to me like you need someone around to better guard your purse." And with that, blushing and fidgeting, she stepped forward and kissed his cheek.

Shocked by her innocence and childlike manner, the rough man barked out sharp laughter and succeeded in startling her thoroughly. He laid a firm swat on her ass, chuckled again, and led her to the saloon.

Her pride bruised all over again, she scowled at him briefly. "I try to be nice and all you do is smack me?" Angry, she swung at him, but he caught her arm and kissed her, gently and softly, on the lips. Amazed to feel her anger melting, she sighed and met his kiss with longing tenderness.

Having quieted her once more, he ushered her through the bat-wing doors and made directly for the bar. "Whiskey and a key," he said flatly, flipping the bartender a gold coin.

Maggie chewed her lower lip and made a face at her new friend. "I thought I had that," she nodded at the coin.

The gunslinger took the key and bottle that were slid to him and glanced at her. "Only a fool keeps all his eggs in one basket," he favored her with another smile.