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They’re midway through unpacking boxes, Liam frowning at a pile of mismatched socks and Pez feigning productivity, when Pez unearths a hat box from one of the boxes. He pries it open and lets out a low whistle.
“Hmm,” Pez says, raising the Stetson in his hands like he’s just discovered it. “Look what I found.”
Liam stops mid-fold, sock still in both hands. “Oh, shit. Thought I lost that ages ago.” Truth be told, he’d carted it around in boxes and trunks, in a trunk within boxes, for years without giving it a second thought, like a museum piece from his younger life.
Pez leans into him, hat dangling from two fingers. His smirk turns downright wicked when he whispers into Liam’s ear. “Henry said these can make a little riding … even better.”
Liam groans, flinging the socks on the floor. “Jesus, Pez.” He runs a hand over his face, already half-hard just from the way Pez said that. “So, what are you saying? You wanna ride me wearing my hat, or …” He swallows thickly, the thought knocking him off his feet as if he’s been punched in the gut. “You want me to ride you, and wear it?”
Pez places the Stetson on Liam’s head for him, tilting it so that it sits perfectly. “I hear a man’s Stetson is sacred,” he says with a mock seriousness. He winks, hand coming up to toy with the band of the Stetson. “I’d never take yours, of course. Besides, I already got your heart.”
“Fuck,” Liam hisses as the heat tears through his chest. Only Pez could deliver a line that damn cheesy and make Liam fear coming in his jeans. He laughs loudly, immediately dissolving into a moan when Pez’s hands come up to tangle in his hair, hot palms skimming over the planes of his back on the way there.
It’s always too easy, really, Liam being done for with only a look from Pez. Throw a Stetson into the mix, and it’s a lost cause. It’s not long before Liam’s flat on his back with the hat now propped up against the headboard, and Pez’s fingers are already slick between his thighs, fingers stretching him open with an obscene thoroughness. First one, then two, so fucking slow that Liam’s cursing under his breath and bucking his hips when the third digit finally slides inside and goddamn.
“You’re not a patient man, Cowboy,” Pez purrs, voice a low hum against Liam’s neck.
“Patience is for chumps,” Liam snaps back as he shoves Pez back onto the bed and straddles his hips. “And my bronc’s ready.”
He sets the Stetson atop his head as he sinks down onto Pez’s cock with a groan that reverberates through his chest. He takes his time, sweet torture, rocking himself back and forth before he starts to grind down with a slow rhythm that has Pez swearing in a variety of tongues.
“Ride ‘em, cowboy,” Pez pants, laughing breathlessly as Liam tilts the brim of his hat at him with a cocksure grin.
Liam rides him like he has nothing else to do—long and slow with his hips grinding into Pez like he’s teasing the man to death. The room is thick with the slap of skin and the creak of the bed springs as Liam drawls aloud, muttering things under his breath that have Pez hissing curses against his lips. “I bet you didn’t know I came with rodeo tricks,” he breathes as he buckles down, Pez arching up to meet him.
It’s a marathon of fucking, both of them laughing through moans, teetering the fine line between filthy and ridiculous. Pez pounds up into Liam harder, filling him so perfectly, so good that Liam’s head snaps back as the brim of the Stetson shades his flushed cheeks. Every thrust is a promise, every kiss shattered with pants and huffs of laughter and gentle confessions.
And when they’re both whining, coming undone, and whispering fuck and please into the space of their parted mouths, Liam tips his hat to Pez like he just won the whole damn rodeo, before they finally unravel in a mess of limbs, sweat, and laughter, and pulling Pez along with him.
They collapse together, Liam half sprawled across Pez’s chest in a sweaty mess of limbs, still laughing in between ragged breaths. The Stetson had somehow stayed on through most of it, a symbol of their horseplay, though it’s now tipped sideways, miraculously staying put by sheer stubbornness.
Pez lazily runs a hand down Liam’s back, fingers trailing every ridged curve of muscle as if he has all the time in the world to do it. “Well,” he says finally, wrecked and smug, “If that’s the way you are with a hat on, I’m buying you a whole damned ranch.”
Liam huffs out a laugh, muffled against Pez’s collarbone. He raises his head, hair damp and sticking to his forehead. With a showman’s flourish, Liam reaches up to tug the Stetson off his own head. He dangles it over them for a moment, then drops it on top of Pez’s head.
Pez blinks up at him, brim sliding low over his eyes. “Darling, are you trying to make me respectable?”
“Nope.” Liam grins and taps the brim down so it’s snug against Pez’s head. “I’m saying next time, I wanna see just how good of a cowboy you can be.”
Pez’s smile twists, wicked and predatory. “Oh, sweetheart. You’ve just started something you can’t possibly win.”
“Good,” Liam says, finally settling back down against him, exhaling with a contented sigh. “'Cause I’m counting on it.”
The Stetson slips sideways on Pez’s head, crooked and ridiculous, but Liam swears he’s never seen anything hotter in his life as Pez pulls him down into a kiss