1 . Name: TeratoMarty @ 2012-06-24 17:36

Hey, 'chan, long time no see. Have a thing with Sniper and Engineer. It also has Emotions.
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Even though I’d taken off my helmet and goggles, I was sweating bullets, waiting for the Sniper to come by. He generally did, most evenings anyway, and it wasn’t like I didn’t have enough work to keep me busy when he didn’t. That night, though, I was just sitting there staring at the schematics, making no headway at all. I could have been a man about it, hunted him up in his van or wherever he’d got to, but I didn’t.

When he eventually showed, my mouth was so dry I couldn’t have spat if you’d paid me. He just said, “Hey, Truckie,” sauntered in like usual. His long hands on my shoulders felt like Heaven. I couldn’t resist bending my head back for a kiss. He didn’t seem to mind my dry lips, and soon enough he’d spun my chair around and was sliding down to straddle my lap, pinning me against the drafting table.

“Slim,” I managed to choke out, “how come we’re doing this?”

He pushed back, stood up. My heart pounded in my ears as I waited for him to speak. “It’s a practical arrangement, right?” His eyes were unreadable behind those damn yellow shades.

“Well, uh.” I fiddled with my mechanical pencil. “It works well, real well, and we’re both professionals and all, but.” I swallowed hard. “If all it is to you is practical, I don’t know if I can do it any more.

He took off his hat and specs and just stared. I felt like I was in the sights of his rifle.

“I know your opinion on feelings,” I babbled. “They’re not my strong suit, either. But I just. I’m not a robot.” The gears in the Gunslinger ground as I tapped the pencil rapidly against my knee. “Not entirely, anyway,” I laughed weakly.

After about a goddamn year, the Sniper spoke. “Ever think about what you’ll do once our contracts are up?”

Some of the guys talked a lot about their plans for when their hitch was up. Scout always had a different big idea, and Spy was always rattling on about where he’d go, what he’d eat, what kind of ladies he’d meet. Sniper and me, though, we’d never chit-chat about that kind of thing.

“Well, I guess I could set up a workshop about anywhere,” I offered, “but I’ve always been partial to the idea of looking out and watching the sun rise over the Painted Desert every morning. Flagstaff’s nice.”

“What’s the wildlife like out there?”

“Shoot, I dunno. Not much. Cactus, lizards, bugs, I guess.”

“Hm. We should go out there next time we have a furlough, see if I can find tucker to feed us both for a few weeks.”

Now it was my turn to think a spell, even though my own skin felt like it was screaming at me, demanding an explanation for why he wasn’t in my arms yet. “What if it doesn’t work out?”

He shrugged. “We’ll stick close to the van, I always carry a stash of water. All else fails, we check into a hotel and enjoy the pool and the ice machine while we figure out what to do next.”

I reached out to him with my left hand, stroked the stubble on his cheeks. “I guess that’s the best anyone can ask for.”

“We’ve got an advantage over some,” he replied, kissing my forehead. “We’re good at what to do next.” He kissed my cheek. “We’re adaptable.” He kissed my lips. “We can weather out most things.” He waited.

“We?”

“We.”

Then, I gave in to my skin’s demands, hauled him in close to me. He kissed me hard, tongue sliding into my mouth, yanking on my coverall straps to pull me out of my chair. It was like a dance, how we wrapped around each other, pulling off clothing as we spun toward the bed in the corner of my workshop. I kissed his long neck as I shoved him onto the bed.

We held on tight to each other as we kissed and petted, his heart beating against my own ribs. I had to touch every part of him, taste him all over. I kissed my way along his body, tracking the hair down from his chest, over his belly to the sweet, musky thatch at his crotch. I kissed his cock, took it in my mouth with my eyes shut to taste and smell him best. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and looked up to see him looking desperately down at me.

About dying of need, I grabbed the tube of slick from its place in the bedframe and ran a slippery handful over his hard-on and down into the crack of his ass. He threw his head back and spread his legs wide as I pushed a fingertip inside him. He took me so easily, perfectly, pushing into the sensation. I held his legs apart with my metal hand, admired the tension in his lean thighs. After a bare few thrusts, I knew he was ready, pulled out my finger and pressed my cock against him instead.

“No,” he whispered, turning his face away. It’s just his way, making love. He needs a little fight to get going. If he really meant enough was enough, he’d tell me. Ordinarily, I’d tell him he liked it and ride him like a bucking bronco, but not that night.

“It’s all right,” I murmured, sliding deep inside. It was hot and tight, perfection like nothing I’d ever felt.

“Don’t,” he looked up with those blue eyes that hardly anyone but me gets to see. He put his hand on my chest, on the fine line of pressure between petting and pushing away.

“It’s all right,” I repeated, wrapping my left hand around his cock. “I’ll take care of you.” From the way he throbbed in my hand, I knew I’d said the right thing.

It was easy to find our rhythm. I knew just how to press into him, how to slide long strokes back and forth past that place that always gives us the most. He arched under me, all lean limbs and sinew, bringing me deeper and deeper. I tried to support my weight on my elbows, but he pulled me down onto him, wrapping his legs around my waist.

“No,” he moaned, louder than before.

“God, yes,” I replied, kissing along his collarbone. “Every day. Want you, all the time.” I thrust into him hard.

“Please.” He’s never one to beg, nowhere but in bed, so it gets to me every time.

“Yes!” I hammered into him. “Oh, fuck, Slim, yes!” I was losing control, and fast.

“Yes,” he whispered, and that was all it took. I lost myself inside him, bursts of white light blinding me as I hung onto him as hard as I could. He came, too, nuzzling against my chest like he was trying to hide underneath me. I laid on top of him, washed out with bliss, until I heard an unfamiliar choking noise.

“Please,” he was crying against my chest, face crumpled as he tried to hold it in. “Please, Truckie, don’t leave me alone.”

“Slim!” I felt my heart crack at the thought he even needed to ask. “Never!” I started to cry, myself. “Never, never.” I slipped out of him, but couldn’t let go even long enough to grab a rag. I covered his face in kisses, ran my fingers through his fine hair.

“We’re a right pair,” he smiled weakly underneath me. “I’m. I’m sorry I said it was just business, before. I didn’t know how to say. Y’know.”

“I just feel a fool ‘cause I didn’t say anything before.” I held him close again, then finally grabbed that rag to tidy us both up a little. “I want you to stay with me, you don’t want me to leave you alone. It is a kind of a practical solution, after all.”