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There were many things that Boothill yearned to do as a barely-man, mostly-robot: eat homemade meals, not bullets; ride a horse, not a spaceship; chase cattle, not the forkin’ IPC…
But what he found himself missing especially was the ability to feel, and he wasn’t talkin’ about emotions—he wanted the real deal: the pain of violence, the sting of tears, the warmth of another…
Somewhere in this tin can of a body, he longed to be that young man before he’d died in that fire, too. Those famished flames that had licked and devoured and spared no crumb of his home, his family, his baby girl—
Naw, enough of that shirt, the cowboy curtly chided himself. There ain’t nothin’ ya should be focusin’ on other than the fine fella feelin’ ya up right now.
And what a “fine fella” this person was indeed: Argenti, in all his knightly glory, knelt between his legs and wearing nothing but a tight turtleneck, pants, and an uncharacteristically shy expression.
Boothill couldn’t help but bark with a chuckle. “Looks like I ain’t the only one thinkin’ too much. Don’t tell me ya find me unappealin’ now, Rosebud.”
The light accusation startled Argenti out of his thoughts. “Of course not, my silver cowboy,” he assured with a soft smile. “I just…can’t help but ask once more if...this is alright?”
Boothill huffed an exasperated sigh, wholly to himself than Argenti.
They’d agreed to this after their paths had crossed again, and by “this” they meant an unhurried night of passion—the first they’d ever spend together.
After fateful meeting after fateful meeting, with mutual flirting but unspoken confessions, they had finally ended up in the privacy of Boothill’s spaceship, stumbling into his quarters with their lips all over each other. The cowboy had been too high on enthusiasm to spare any thought about what he had going on down there, so color Argenti surprised when those tight jeans were hurriedly shoved down to reveal a synthetic vagina.
And so, here they were: Argenti gingerly prodding Boothill’s faux folds as if the Galaxy Ranger could even feel his touch.
It was starting to piss Boothill off. “That motherfudgin’ hag…” he murmured under his breath.
Before resuming his interminable journey, Boothill decided to pay that doctor a visit. She was never one for pleasantries, and despite her uninterested tone when questioning his sudden appearance at her door, he didn’t miss the glint of genuine surprise in her eyes.
“What's brought you back here, Galaxy Ranger?” She gestured Boothill towards the operating table. “I see this path has treated you better than I’d expected.” She suddenly noticed the sizable gash on his lower abdomen and studied it with an unimpressed frown. “If you’re looking for any substantial upgrades, I’m afraid you’re overestimating my generosity...” She gave the same scar a once-over. “...And how much time and patience I’m willing to spare over something I know you’re capable of handling yourself.”
“Just ‘Boothill’ is fine,” the cowboy replied, “and ya ain’t gotta worry your pretty little head over what I’m about’ta ask, doc.”
The short woman only raised a skeptical brow.
It was when Boothill actually had to say it that he started stumbling.
“Well, ya see…Ya know how I— Shirt, I ain’t the type to be embarrassed, but with the way yer starin’ at me—”
“Boothill.”
“Fork me— alright, fine— I swear I ain’t askin’ for much, just…Do ya think you can install somethin’ down here?” He motioned to his crotch with forced shamelessness.
The doctor raised both of her eyebrows this time, and Boothill grunted irrately under her unreadable expression.
“Just say ya ain’t doin’ it—”
“No, no, stay.” The woman turned to fetch something from one of her cabinets. “I guess I can’t blame a young man like yourself for still having human desires despite your robotic imitations.”
A little surprised, Boothill remained on the table. When the doctor returned to his side, his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as he was presented with two devices that could essentially be described as a fleshlight and a dildo. (That’s what they were called, right?)
“Take your pick.”
The cowboy was shocked to even be given the option. Boy, how considerate of her, he joked.
“Yer insane, doc.” Boothill took a moment to ponder before quickly nodding at the “fleshlight”. “I s’pose this one. Why'd'ya even have these?”
A hum was all she replied with before gathering her tools. “Actually, I might as well give you the other one— I’ll show you how to swap them. That way, if you ever change your mind, you’ll spare me another visit.”
As they proceeded with the installation, a nagging question nipped at Boothill.
“Hey doc…How is this any different from how a normal human uses it? Ain’t it one-sided?”
The doctor continued to work, her expression unchanging. “If you’re talking about pleasure, no; this one’s equipped with a sensitivity module that I’ve connected to your system, so you should be able to feel something.” She gave her handiwork one final evaluation before patting Boothill’s thigh, prompting him to stand and dress himself.
“Well, off you go,” she dismissed as she began tidying the room.
The cowboy flashed a toothy grin before departing with a wave. “Thanks, doc.”
Before the door closed behind him, he swore he heard an amused, “Have fun.”
“‘Have fun’ my ass,” Boothill parroted his memory bitterly.
If Argenti had heard him, he paid it no mind; he just continued to rub the flat of his fingers up and down Boothill’s folds. If anything, it was (unsurprisingly) him who was the one fascinated with the fake genitalia.
The Galaxy Ranger fidgeted awkwardly. “‘Kay…I think you can try puttin’ 'em in now.”
Argenti nodded. “Of course. As you wish.” He eased one slender finger in, then another, and started to feel around the interestingly textured interior. The thing was quite firm but plush on the inside, Boothill could tell that much. Unfortunately, it was also a sack of shirt .
“Aeons, this sorry excuse for a swappable part ain’t even workin’,” growled Boothill. “I can’t feel anythin’—”
His breath hitched as a violent shiver suddenly rattled his frame.
Argenti halted immediately and looked at Boothill with a worried pinch in his brows. “I’m sorry, my dear. I didn’t harm you did I?”
“What the fork…” The cowboy stared at his body in bewilderment before clearing the nonexistent lump in his throat. “Nah, nah, ya didn’t…You can— you can keep goin’...”
Still a tad bit troubled, Argenti continued but carefully this time. With every drag, he tried a different angle, hoping to stir a more pleasant reaction. Despite Boothill’s inability to feel his touch, the dashing cowboy had been so adorably thrilled to finally spend time together like this, and Argenti was resolved to ensure that his excitement hadn’t been misplaced.
However, after a few more moments of fruitless fingering, Boothill deflated. “It ain’t workin’, ‘Genti…I can just, I dunno, try suckin’ ya off— AH !”
Another shiver similar to before rushed through his body. The cowboy shut his mouth just as quickly, and he and Argenti stared at each other like two deer caught in headlights. Emerald eyes worriedly searched the cyborg’s before widening ever so slightly, and before Boothill could crack a joke, Argenti thrust his fingers.
“Nngh—?! Argenti, what the fork—” Another thrust interrupted him with a broken moan, and the next pulled his limbs taut. He could feel a strange heat begin to pool in his body, and it only spread as those damned fingers kept moving.
“‘Genti!” cried Boothill, “wait— hah— h-hold your horses, I—” He tried to close his legs, but the way Argenti was relentlessly prodding at that particular spot over and over single-handedly made it an endeavor.
Aeons, who knew this Knight of Beauty was a force to be reckoned with once he had Boothill figured out. Even the Galaxy Ranger couldn't comprehend what was happening to himself.
As the heat continued to rise at an alarming rate and his fans kicked into overdrive, all Boothill could think about was how good Argenti was fucking him with two fingers alone; how he was watching him with so much lust he didn’t think a gentleman of his caliber could possess.
He also could only think about about how startlingly sensitive he was.
“Hah— mm— fudge, Argenti, s-stop!” Boothill was practically wailing now. His cheeks had grown noticeably red and his body felt like it was going to explode. He gripped Argenti’s wrist with a trembling hand. “I c…can’t— w-wait— eno—!!!”
With a loud moan, Boothill spasmed wildly, back arching off the mattress, and then he collapsed, limp and unresponsive.
Shocked, Argenti immediately removed his fingers and cradled Boothill’s head. Upon studying his face, he saw that the cyborg’s eye had been completely overtaken by a deep blue color, crowded with ineligible coding that flashed behind a throbber.
“Boothill?” He anxiously waited for a long minute before hearing a soft ping. Boothill’s eye suddenly went black, and for a moment Argenti thought the worst.
But then the cowboy blinked awake, and that signature star reticle reappeared.
“Boothill!” Argenti exclaimed with dramatic relief. He cupped his face and stroked his cheek with his thumb. “I thought I’d done something terribly wrong...”
The cyborg only blinked owlishly at him. When he didn't respond after a few seconds, Argenti's smile faltered.
"Boothill..?"
Again, only silence answered. The knight was beginning to visibly panic.
"Oh Idrila, what have I done?" he mourned. "Boothill dearest, I know you cannot understand me right now, but we must bring you to that doctor." He slipped his arms underneath him, preparing to carry him. "She'll know what to d—"
"Ugh, please don't..."
Argenti froze. With wide-eyed disbelief, he gawked at the perfectly fine, perfectly conscious man below who broke into a fit of obnoxious laughter. The knight placed a hand above his heart with a heavy sigh.
"Boothill," he started sternly, holding and caressing the cowboy's face all the same. "Please do not frighten me like that..."
Boothill gently laid a hand over Argenti’s and chuckled some more. Were all the Knights this precious? “'m sorry, doll, I really am." He grinned and spread his arms. "But I'm fine, see? We both know ya’d never hurt me on purpose.” He let his limbs fall and then stared at the ceiling, suddenly pensive. “...Holy forkeroni, I think I actually need to go back and give that doc a piece o' my mind. Get her to fix this stinkin' ‘sensitivity module’— Mmgh?!”
The hand on his cheek had snuck down to his cunt and teased a finger inside. Argenti had the gall to smile at him so sweetly and innocently, and Boothill retaliated in the only way he knew how: by pulling him down for a kiss (and laughing against his lips).
“Cheeky son of a nice lady…”