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Bison Steve Blues (2/5)
Date: 2012-04-17 12:12 pm (UTC)Though they’d only been together four months, and intimate much less than that, the two had seemingly fallen into an established pattern of affection. Arcade was the bold one, the experienced one who took the lead. Boone was shy. He had to be coaxed, to be encouraged, by Arcade. Arcade’s knowledge of psychology was limited but quite refined, and he suspected Boone of having deep rooted intimacy issues—issues that probably even stemmed pre-Carla. Guiltily, Arcade let his tongue fall back into his own mouth, and encouraged Boone as best he could to take the lead. If his man was showing a little bit of initiative, Arcade owed it to him to encourage it. Hell, if nothing else, it’d probably be good for Boone’s self-esteem.
Arcade allowed himself to be led further into the room, glad to have the door jamb out of his back. Boone led him by the hips, walking backwards into the gloom of the kitchen of the Bison Steve Hotel. Almost as an afterthought, Arcade recalled the story of how the Courier and Boone had cleared the Powder Gangers out of the hotel. If his memory served him correctly, Arcade recalled that Deputy Beagle had died in this room, after the trio had been ambushed by the head of the Powder Gangers. It was nothing more than a passing observation; death didn’t give today’s Wastelanders the heebie-jeebies like it did in Arcade’s great-grandfather’s day. Yes, half a dozen men had died in this room a few months ago. That didn’t make it any less of a prime spot to neck. Besides, most of the blood had been cleaned off of the walls and floors. Yeah, most of it….
The Courier had sent Boone and Arcade into the Bison Steve to forage for scrap and supplies to hawk. ‘Well I spy a pool table,’ Arcade thought, ‘but I think Boone and I should test its structural integrity.’ Boone must have had much the same idea, as he swung Arcade around and pushed him down to sit on the table. Feeling a wave of lust fueled impatience, Arcade began to pull Boone’s shirt off, then his own. Finally, he could touch the smooth, tan skin of Boone’s back and run his hands over the hard muscles of his lover’s arms and stomach. Words could not express how painful it was to watch Boone strut around camp sans shirt and act like he DIDN’T want to just bend the smaller man over and fuck him senseless. But they had appearances to keep, and their relationship was confined to quick kisses in their shared tent and surreptitious trysts in abandoned buildings. ‘I’m a 35 year old man and I still have to sneak around like a horn-dog teenager,’ Arcade grumbled to himself. Yes, but moments like this made it worth it. He couldn’t wait to be inside of his lover. It had been far too long.
Arcade’s impatience reached a peak, and this heavy petting was no longer satisfying enough for him. Though Boone was apparently still content with nuzzling at his neck, Arcade slipped his fingers into the waist band of Boone’s jeans and groped for the top button. Once the pants were unbuttoned, Arcade yanked the zipper down, not oblivious to the bulge in the front of Boone’s pants, and pushed the jeans to the ground. Wasting no time, Arcade pushed his hands into the other man’s underwear, tracing Boone’s hip bones down into the V of his crotch.