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Nate stands at the entrance to his trailer, cigarette dangling from his lips, shirt pulled tight over taut muscles. Gray specks shine in the afternoon sun. The stubble on his cheeks has also begun to turn, whether from time or strain or both, Travis doesn’t know.
He doesn’t ask, either, why Nate has shown up here, the scent of whiskey thick on his breath. This is something, though he lacks a word for it. His hands curl together, nails scraping over skin, and he tries not to avoid the older man’s blue eyes, lined like much of his face, all the while quietly fearing and hoping whatever move is next to be made. The body filling the frame of the door is powerful, reeks of sweat and masculinity, and Travis wants. He gnaws on his lip and wants, desperate and yearning.
So he stands aside, and Nate comes in.
Travis fumbles around in the small box he keeps tucked under his bed. Snack cakes, mostly, and vodka. For those nights he can’t sleep.
He tells himself that, but his fitful nightmares only came after Nate barged into his life, and he only started keeping the vodka after Nate made a habit of dropping by.
Yet he’s content to avoid the truth if that means he can pour two shots and collapse onto the bed beside his lover (and he questions that, too, but it’s close enough to reality). They tilt their heads back and swallow. Nate reaches for the bottle, and the pattern repeats. He puts out his cigarette on the ashtray beside Travis’s bed—another recent addition—and adds their glasses to the space next to it. He pulls Travis close, their mouths meeting without pause, tongues coming together in a fit of loneliness.
It doesn’t take long for Nate to make his desires known, and Travis is glad to have the warm, strong hand on his thigh, glad to feel it slide up and cradle his half-hard arousal. He sighs and lays back, legs spreading as Nate unbuttons his jeans and tugs them down. It’s good like this, Travis thinks when Nate lays down beside him and their lips meet. Heat and lust curl in his stomach, growing as Nate palms his erection to life. Between tongue and fingers, he’s on the edge within minutes. Nate kisses the line of his jaw, voice rough and husky.
“Don’t you have a show to do?”
Travis has never felt the urge to slam his fist into someone, but Nate brings him close. He groans and stands, kicking his pants the rest of the way off. Nate smacks his bare ass, chuckling at the yelp Travis fails to suppress. He listens to the sound of Nate’s zipper as he settles into his chair, placing the large headphones on his head. A glance towards the bed provides all the evidence he needs that Nate likes him, for whatever reason, because the other man has his grip tight around his thick, leaking cock, his eyes hooded as he breathes out sharply through his nose.
“I—uh, welcome back, folks. This is, you know, Travis.”
The bed creaks when Nate stands. His boots thunk onto the floor, his jeans piled on top, his shirt joining them with no audible noise. Travis’s mouth goes dry at the sight of Nate, clad in nothing but black boxers, hair spread over his chest, narrowing into a trail dipping below the elastic of his underwear. He pads over to Travis, rolling the chair to the side and falling to his knees. Nate spreads Travis’s thighs, thumbs ghosting over the sensitive flesh. He plants a line of kisses closer and closer and closer, and Travis audibly squeaks when Nate runs his tongue along the pulsing vein of his arousal.
Travis realizes the recording button is still on and moves to cut it off, but Nate’s hand grabs his wrist.
“Leave it,” he whispers.
Travis obeys.
Nate presses his fingers against Travis’s entrance, still loose from his fantasies the night before, and slips them inside with a smile. Travis gulps, squeezes his eyes shut, and stutters into the mic. “So we have, some, uh, news today.” He tries to steady his breathing, but Nate sucking the tip of his erection dizzies him. “Looks like that guy? From the vault? He’s, well he’s doing some great stuff out there...in the Commonwealth.” Nate glances up, grinning around Travis’s arousal while taking him deeper. Travis jumps at the twist of fingers inside him. “Yeah! So! Uh, how about some music?”
Nate pulls back shakes his head. “Tell them more, pretty boy.”
Travis’s face grows hot.
“Yeah, well, maybe not music, uh, right now. Maybe I’ll tell you more about that—that vault guy. Uh, he’s like? Joined up with the Minute Men? And maybe, uh, from what I’ve heard—and I don’t know, I don’t know if this is true—but maybe he’s found those Railroad guys? The ones who free synths?”
A third finger joins in the thrusting, and the full sensation overwhelms him. He moans, hands resting on Nate’s head, and catches his breath.
“So those Railroad guys, I mean, I don’t know what’s up with them—”
Nate swallows around his cock, breaking Travis’s weak concentration.
“Fuck, fuck I can’t do this, Nate,” he says, voice low in an attempt to hide his words from listeners. Tears form at the corners of his eyes. Embarrassment mingles with pleasure, and Travis gasps when Nate hums. “Oh, god, that’s good.”
“Keep going,” Nate says and laps the forming precum, squeezing the base as he alternates between sucking and licking. Travis starts to shake. “They’re going to hear you cum for me.”
Travis nods and starts rambling, doing his best to avoid sounding too distracted.
“I don’t know, what’s, uh, up with those Railroad guys, but they seem to be stopping the Institute, and, uh, fighting the Brotherhood of Steel? That’s a little, uh, odd. Always thought—thought that the...enemy...of my enemy...is my friend. But, uh, I guess no one tells me these things!” He lifts his hips from the chair, bucking into Nate’s mouth. With one hand on the mic, he releases a strained gasp. “Nate, I—I’m so close.”
Nate jerks him off, fingers massaging inside at the same time, and Travis’s vision goes white with pleasure. He bites his free hand and screams, releasing shots of sticky cum onto Nate’s face.
Travis pants, chest moving at an accelerated rate, listens to the ragged sound of his breathing echo through the headphones. Nate pats his thigh and stands, picking up the microphone once he's firm on his feet. “Hope ya’ll enjoyed the show. How about a little music?” He presses the play button on the holotape player and turns off the recording before taking Travis’s trembling hands in his. He lifts the smaller man up and kisses him, grinding his still-aching arousal against Travis’s leg. “I want you.”
All he can do is nod, let Nate drag him towards the bed on legs that already feel like jelly. Without direction, Travis falls onto his hands and knees, presenting his body to Nate. He lays his head on the pillow and spreads his ass apart, cheeks bright red. Nate positions himself at the entrance and thrusts inside, meeting no resistance as he buries his cock balls-deep within the radio host. His nails dig into the sensitive flesh of Travis’s hips, earning him a soft mewl as Travis adjusts to the pain while accommodating Nate’s girth. Three fingers is usually enough, but with no lube, Travis has to grit his teeth and wait for the discomfort to subside.
He whimpers as Nate begins to move, pace frantic. Nate’s grunts bounce through the small trailer. His whole body works, sweat streaming down his chest, as Travis lays below him and takes every hard inch. Travis’s cock is flaccid between his legs, swinging while Nate fucks him relentlessly. He moans at the pressure, at the way Nate uses his body. He likes it like this; feeling worthless, a play thing for the older man.
Travis reaches under and strokes himself, drawing his attention from the dry friction as Nate humps him.
The buildup of tension proves too much, Nate's stamina outweighed by the public display of eroticism between them, and he groans one last time before he fills Travis with his hot load.
“Fuck, baby,” he says, pulling out and falling onto his side. He grabs Travis and drags him into a hug, kissing his shoulder. Travis turns in Nate’s arms, smiling, one leg draped over his hips. Nate nuzzles his neck, a sloppy smile spread across his stubbled cheeks. “Fuck.”
They laugh, giggling as they kiss.
“Visit me more often?” Travis asks. He snuggles into Nate, resting his head on Nate’s broad chest.
Nate presses his lips against Travis’s brow. “You know I will, pretty boy.”