The heat crushes the valley like a wet blanket.
In the back of a dusty saloon, Cody watches. Silent. Still. Waiting.
He’s a man who doesn’t speak much — but whose body tells everything.
Broad shoulders. Hands calloused by years of work.
And a stare that makes lesser men turn away… or step up.
That night, one does.
What starts as a glance across the bar turns into a chase under the desert stars — and ends in a barn where only skin, sweat, and hunger speak.
Cody takes what he wants. And what he wants doesn’t beg.
Not yet.
Raw. Unapologetic. Dirty as the dust under their boots.
A queer western that bites, grinds, and brands you like a hot iron.
In the sweltering heat of a room where desire thrums like a primal pulse, bodies clash, seeking, challenging, devouring each other in a feral trance. They don’t love each other—they take. Sweat mixes with fury, the burn of breath with possessive bites. It’s a battle, an offering, a brutal surrender where only strength, scent, and domination matter. Here, there’s no space for tenderness—only the raw urgency of tearing each other apart.
The night stretches endlessly. The beasts reign.
Some shelves hide more than just products.
Cole has finished his shift, but he’s in no rush to leave. Every night, the man with the blue bandana shows up — same time, same look, full of unspoken hunger.
But tonight, Cole is done playing subtle.
In the shadows of the forbidden stockroom, stolen glances turn into bold touches, and the tension erupts into raw, visceral heat.
With cold metal against flushed skin, it’s a battle of dominance, a primal dance where neither wants to surrender.
And Cole knows: this is only the beginning.