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Welcome to the Fallout Kink Meme, Part IV! Please assume the position.

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From: (Anonymous)

The weird part is how he never imagines the big stuff. You'd think once he finally got some privacy he'd immediately jump into a fantasy of getting fucked, but it was never that. He spent his few precious moments of no one pounding on the door needing to get their hair did imagining the little things. Of two hands on either side of his face, the soft fan of dark eyelashes and being kissed breathless, the kind of slow drawn-out kiss with the barest brush of tongue that Sergio would bet Figaro that the King excelled at. Of warm fingertips slipping under his t-shirt, clean short fingernails scraping lightly over the soft skin of his belly. Of lying on his back with the King between his legs, trailing lips with agonizing languidity along the inside of his thighs, the kind of slow savoring touches he had only ever experienced in his head.

He'd told Jimmy about it once, when they were well into the bottle. Jimmy'd called it a testament to his loneliness. Sergio'd called him something far less tasteful and snatched the bottle from his hands.

The worst part was that the King's aftershave, that special bottle that he used exclusively for the King and paid prospectors double for any bottle they could bring him, was sitting open on the top of the cabinet behind him, the scent of it just ghosting his senses, making all of this too easy and too painful.

He let his head fall back, thunking against the cabinet and he arched his neck, trying to get more of that smell, just strong enough and subtle enough to seem real. He could imagine wrapping his arms around the King's neck, burying his face against warm skin, and smelling it there, and he was coming hot into his hand. He took only a moment to catch his breath and then he was moving, tucking himself into his pants and rinsing his hands and rushing to close the cap on the bottle of the aftershave. Because really, who was he, leaving that open.