The sounds of cheering and chanting vibrated through the walls of the tavern.

The dull orange and brown lights made it hard to make out the figure under you, but you were still able to see his face.

Boothill, the cyborg who stumbled upon this pub. He picked a fight the first few minutes of being here, but it took a lot of convincing to prove the tavern was trustworthy.

At first you didn’t like him. Hell, you almost hated him.

But the way he looked at you right now, how his eyes flicked down to his lap as you rolled your hips against him, almost like a rodeo.

Not to mention the smirk on his face as you took his hat and placed it over your head.

God, you hated that smirk.