bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
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bmblbee
bloodclaim

White Lightnin' 7/37

Title:White Lightnin' 7/37
Author: BmblBee
Rating Adult overall
Paring: S/X
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this story and make
no profit from them
Summary: Set in the early 1940's, Spike is a G-man sent on
a mission in the Applachian mountains to search for
and destroy illegal alcohol when he has an accident.
Xander is a moonshiner who takes him in.



Even with the cold air, it took only minutes for the talk with Xander's
cock to reach it's inevitable climax. Again shaking it off, he tucked
himself away and returned to the warmth of the cabin. Checking his
patient, Xander was not surprised to see he was still out cold.

Putting a pan of water by the fire, he waited till it warmed. Returning to the
man's bed side, Xander removed the handkerchief from his suit pocket
and dipped it in the pan.
Wiping his patients face he noticed that a small amount of blood from a
hairline cut, and the rapidly bruising temple were the only things marring the
beauty of the sleeper's face.

Xander dropped the cloth back in the water and ran his hand over the
unresponsive face.
It was smooth as a baby's bottom. Xander wondered how often, if ever,
he had to shave.

He then did the one thing he was most uncomfortable doing.
He began a search of the man's pockets for information and
identification.

He first removed the shoes, checked the souls for hidden pockets
and set them under the edge of the bed.
Next he slid off the trousers.
The underwear matched that which was in the suitcase. If it had
been different, the case could have been a plant.

Checking all the pockets, he found .32 cents, a small packet of headache
powder, and a four leaf clover. Tossing the pants over a chair, he next
peeled off the jacket.
The lower side pockets held nothing. That in itself seemed
suspicious, but he reserved opinion.

The inside breast pocket contained what he had been seeking.
The man's wallet.
Opening it he counted 4 one dollar bills.

A driver's license that gave his name as William Beemish of
New York City.
"Well, well Mr. Beemish. You certainly have come a long way.
What is it you are looking for way out here."

Xander cocked his head to the side and studied the closed face
of his patient.
Behind the license was a business card that stated he was indeed
an encyclopedia salesman.

Studying the card, he was struck by the feel of it.
If he truly was traveling around showing this card to people and
attempting to make a sale, why was the card so stiff and new feeling?

Placing the jacket on top of the pants, he quickly took off the button
down shirt, leaving only an undershirt and boxers.
Covering him up with a heavy worn quilt, Xander sat back down at the
hand made table and chair to think things through.

'Fuck. This couldn't have come at a worst time. Everything was
running so smoothly.
Got several big money customers expecting delivery tonight
and no way to contact them.

But that might not be the biggest problem.
What if this is a G-man.
A revenuer

Pausing again he studied his visitor. 'Sure don't look like one.
Wasn't no way this one would have the strength to swing an axe
and bust up a still.
Maybe he is just what he seems. Then what? Can't keep him'

Staring at his crotch he admonished, 'You heard me, you bastard.
You can't have him!'

Sighing, Xander knew if he was going to try to make his deliveries
tonight he needed to get packed.
Checking the sleeping man one more time, he slipped quietly
out the door.

Grabbing the wheel barrow he hurried back the path to the hidden still.
Dumping out the sacks of corn mash for the next cooking, he started to
load up with liquor filled crocks.

Returning to the barn, he took the key out of his pocket and
unlocked the padlock.
Wheeling the load into the barn he transferred the jugs to the
crates in his car.

Rushing back, he repeated the process two more times.
Finally securing the last of the liquor, he left the barn and
reattached the lock and double checked it.

His order this week was more than usual and the preparation had
taken most of the morning and into the afternoon.
Afraid he had pushed his luck to far, he returned to the cabin.
Upon entering he was relieved to see Mr. Beemish had not moved.

Hungry from the day's work, Xander took a jar of soup beans he
had canned last fall from the shelf and dumped them in a pan by the fire.
When they were heated, he sat at the table with a spoon and the pan.
Not much need of using a plate when you ate alone.

"Oh, sorry. You hungry?" Xander lifted his spoon in the direction
of the sleeping man.
"No? Well let me know if you change your mind." Satisfied with
the answer, or lack of, he continued to eat.

"Haven't had any one here to talk to before now. You don't mind
do you?"
No response.

Xander continued "Get's kind of lonely up here. Not that I mind.
Hell no. Had the chance to leave. To live in the city, but that just
weren't me. Gotta know where your home is.

Gotta know who you are.
Know what I mean? What's that? Nope, never been to New York.
So that where you were born Mr. Beemish? What? O.k. Billy, it is."

Xander finished his beans and had to admit it was very companionable
to sit back and have someone to visit with.
Checking the time on his watch, Xander stretched and yawned.
"Well, Billy, I hate to be rude but I'm workin' the midnight shift tonight
so I believe I will take me a little snooze. No, no. Please don't concern
yourself. I'm fine right here."

Throwing a quilt on the floor in front of the fire place, Xander
curled up and went to sleep.

William Beemish never moved.
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