bakerstreet | sexts from whenever

[It isn't that the Brotherhood is against such...intimate activities. In fact, with how badly the NCR chapter is doing, it's encouraged. But the heyday of the Brotherhood when they could be picky about who joined their ranks is definitely gone. And while secrecy has kept them alive, it's also killing them slowly. The Elders don't listen, or are too scared of change to do the things that would necessitate its long-term survival.

And as much as he doesn't want to think about it, if Crius was more open about where his preferences lay, he fears that it would lead only to ostracizing.]

I want...

[He wants so much, but doesn't know how to voice it.]

I want to be inside you. Or you inside me. I don't care much of either. I want to take our time. I wanna figure out the things you like.

[He looks up at Len, then and lets another barrier down.]

I want you to still be there when I wake up.

[And he knows it's unfair to say that to Len, when Crius was the one who would limit their time together most often. But they have more of it now than Crius has ever thought he'd have, and he's feeling greedy.]

[ Len exercises patience the way any good sniper might, with care and precision. They've screwed around plenty before - Len because of his whole no-strings-attached thing, and Crius maybe because Len was some kind of breath of fresh air from the stagnant atmosphere of the bunker - but they sure as Hell don't talk about it. Len also prefers it that way, on-edge for the rare occasions wherein someone gets too close and he has to make efforts to reinforce walls.

It's probably Crius' nascent anxiety about the Brotherhood's fate that pushes him out of doors when he can get the opportunity and assignment, that pushes him toward Len, who's made no bones about the way he feels. Misplaced emotions, perhaps. But he's whip-smart, he knows the score. Knows how hypocritical it is to tell Len to stay, too, based on the look on his face as the courier watches him, waiting.

Len can't promise that and they both know it, but he can do his best. ]

Whole lot on your mind.

[ He murmurs, a hand pushing over Crius' thigh, squeezing the muscle. Fuck, he's solid. Len's smile is indulgent and only just reaches his eyes as he gently urges Crius to straddle his lap. ]

You ever fool around with other soldiers the way you fool around with me?

Sometimes. Happened more often Before.

[Before the Brotherhood and NCR started butting heads. Before the order pushed farther than even the people who benefited from or tolerated both sides said it was enough. Before Helios One, before the Bunker. Before survival was more important than the sacred mission of preserving technology and assisting the survivors of The War.

Now? Fooling around was usually helping someone get their rocks off because no one else was around, or they were in a fight with girl they were sweet on. More stress relief than fun. The times he could count that weren't just some straight guy taking advantage of someone they knew was willing, not including Len, were scant.

He goes without complaint, sliding easily into place atop Len.]

And before was just that. Kids being kids. There was a guy I was sweet on when I was a squire back in New California, but he headed east with the expedition. Lost contact with him when they got past the rockies.

[He grabs for the liquor again and uncaps it. There's a long pull of it before he settles his weight back down on Len. He moves it toward Len's mouth in offering but not so close as to make him feel pressured into drinking.]

[ More stress relief than fun becomes typical of people like them in a world like theirs. Sentiments come few and far between when reality is so unpleasant, but Len tries to capture little moments in time away from it all, like this. Like now. Couldn't blame a guy for getting what he could where he could, and Crius is no different from the other members of the Brotherhood in that way, hurting for intimacy because they're kept in such a high-stakes perimeter.

It's implied that the guy he was sweet on is gone. Knowing the wasteland, knowing the Rockies? Might actually be gone in an existential sense. ]

It happens.

[ Len takes the bottle and belts a slug of it like it's instinct, like it comes naturally to him, and maybe it does. He knows he's got problems and he isn't shy about them either, because indulging is the closest thing out here to the adrenaline of a near-miss in the midst of gunfire and he'll always be seeking that next high. Here, now, it's in the form of the man on his lap, with his too-blue eyes and sharp jaw and gentled expression. What Crius' deserves is someone more reliable. Maybe Len is, to an extent, in answering every call. It's close enough. ]

Y'know. [ He hooks a finger in the crew-neck collar of Crius' shirt, tugging softly. ] We're always messin' around with our clothes on.

[If he wasn't in the mood before, then that casual sentence combined with the tug of his collar basically propels him there faster than a rocket. There's no mistaking what's pressing against Len's stomach, and he'd be embarrassed if that wasn't what they were here for. He inhales sharply, nods once, then takes the hand Len's got on his shirt and pulls it down until it's beneath the hem.

He watches Len then as he guides him up to get the shirt off of him. His nerve endings practically feel on fire as a hand not his moves through the hair and scars on his midsection until there's enough space to slip out of it.]

We haven't.

[The agreement with the statement feels like a decision. Consent to let this keep going, and when the shirt's finally off, he slumps forward enough to rest his forehead against Len's and he kisses him, slow and hungry. As this starts up, he guides that hand back down until Len's fingers are brushed up against his belt.]

[ Len always has a stretch of borderline horny running the length of his entire body and now is no exception to the rule, not with Crius' hard-on pressing against him, with the way that flush starts to crawl over his face when they both start to work at pulling up his shirt. They've never gotten to really see each other, really take their time. On Len's last visit to the bunker he recalls with fondness crowding Crius into a dark corner, all soft and delighted gasps and callused hands in his hair when he slipped to his knees and peeled that stupid Brotherhood under-suit open.

With all the time in the world they don't even have to worry about somebody walking past, no concerns about whether somebody will need to zip up in half a second, nothing but the warm skin under his fingers as Crius deposits his shirt on the floor and this is more like it. Len licks into his mouth filthy-like, teeth digging into his lower lip as he unfastens Crius' belt loop by loop and chucks it to the other side of the couch. ]

Easy-

[ Len murmurs, exploring his chest with his hands and gently tweaking one of Crius' nipples. ]

What are they feeding you boys in the bunker? You're like a brick shithouse.

[They've barely started and already it feels so much better than every time before. They can take their time, really explore and just the feel of that rough palm, of teeth raking against his lips is enough to get Crius to whimper and chase after Len.

Then he starts playing with Crius' nipple and the only thing he can do is gasp and rock against Len. He'd heard about this kind of thing before, but it was always in the context of women. He never saw what the big deal was. But now it's being done to him and it's all he can do not to come apart in Len's lap.]

Huh? [He tries to process what Len's asking, and a serious answer is right on the tip of his tongue before he realizes it's a joke and probably a show of appreciation. He shakes his head, face burning.] Shut up.

[He liked to think of himself as worldly. Having traveled from the Pacific all the way to the Mojave gave a lot of perspective and experience, but just this has Crius realizing just how much he missed out on. Len's used to this kind of thing. He's probably been with all types, done all sorts of things while Crius is fumbling to think of what he wants that isn't something they've already done. And even with the candle he's holding for the other man, the thought that Crius isn't his only bedmate doesn't disgust him or make him jealous. Quite the opposite, in fact. A half-formed image of it pops up in his mind, and he can't help but groan, catching Len's lips with his own.]

Your top is still on, but I've touched you enough to have an idea of what you look like beneath it.

[Finally he lets himself touch in return, tracing out Len's own lean muscle beneath the shirt. Crius rolls his hips as he does so, just to get a moment of sweet friction.]

[ He's sweet. Takes things too literally, at face value, and trips right into them. There are worse traps Crius could fall into and Len would rather the rest of them be as low stakes as this, earning nothing more than a hot face and a mildly tickled ego. It suits Crius, to be knocked out of that formality that plagues so much of his speech, his patterning, his bearing. ]

So, scarred and slightly disappointing?

[ Len laughs into Crius' mouth, by no means as built or buff as soldiers of the Brotherhood. His livelihood now is running, tracking across the desert at all hours, constantly moving. Strong, but more in constitution than in raw physical power. Built for the marathon rather than the sprint.

He removes his hands from Crius' chest long enough to start picking apart the buttons of his own shirt, shrugging it off just to skin to skin. Wildly different to feel those fingers on his hips, his stomach, as opposed to just his dick. ]

What's the verdict?

Scarred, yes. Disappointing? No.

[It's probably a joke again, but Crius can't help the admonishing look he gives Len. Self-deprecation's a recurring theme with him, it seems. And when Len starts taking off his shirt, Crius follows. His fingers trace each scar he sees, every muscle, committing it to memory as well as he can. What's smooth skin, what's blemish, everything that makes up Len.]

You want my verdict? [He leans forward and kisses Len's chest.] I see the body of a man who's lived in the world. The actual world, not the one my order's trying to build, or the one that all those rich clans on the Strip pretend it to be. I see a survivor whose muscles adapted to it. My physique might be larger. I might be better fed, but-- [He laughs and shakes his head.] That all comes from living in a bubble.

[He presses another kiss to Len's body. Then another, until his mouth brushes across one of his nipples and Crius nips it experimentally before pulling away.] I think you look perfect just as you are.

Edited 2022-09-26 04:32 (UTC)

[ Len is utterly confident in himself, doesn't need the reassurance, but it's nice and warming all the same in spite of his joke. Leave it to Crius to see something said in jest as a serious matter, sweetly and sincerely running his hands over Len's skin, raising goosebumps across it, turning him on, making him feel things he'd really rather not feel.

He sucks in a sharp breath as those teeth graze him and in return his smile is lazy, indulgent, fingers pushing through Crius' chest hair and up to his throat, thumbing the dip of his collarbone. He's so handsome it should be a crime, locking someone like this away in a little hole underground, rationed breakfast served with a side of propaganda. ]

You're like a box of Sugar Bombs. [ He observes drily, amused, wetting his lower lip with his tongue. ] You wanted to know what I like?

Terrible for you? [He grins at Len's reaction. He's on the right track, at least. At his question, Crius leans his head to the side. Curious but not assuming.] Of course. I don't want this to just be you giving and me taking.

[ Terrible for him. Too sweet. Damn near edible. Ever so slowly, Len cranes up as if to kiss him, lingering carefully before dipping his head at the last second and pressing his lips to the side of Crius' neck. Here he's incredibly warm, radiating heat and the salt-edge of sweat, an inebriating cocktail that stirs low in his gut. ]

I like you, having a good time. Whatever form that takes.

[ His teeth drag, pinching lightly, as he pulls one of Crius' hands toward his hair. ]

But if you wanna grab parts of me to see what happens, that's a good start, too.

I like you, too. [He says this while fighting back a shiver from the attention being paid to his neck. And it's true he's been saying just as much the whole night through in various ways, but it's...almost embarrassing saying it up-front while a physical reaction confirms it. Too vulnerable, but he's working through it.]

Are you...?

[It isn't difficult to figure out what Len wants from him right then. And even though he's asking confirmation, Len sure as hell wouldn't be guiding him to it if he didn't want it. So Crius takes the hint, moves his hand the rest of the way, and curls his grip into Len's mess of hair firmly. He presses him into his neck just a bit, then tugs. Rough and slow, so that his head tilts back, far enough to expose his own neck and holds him there.

He watches for a reaction, then moves again so that it's Crius' mouth at Len's neck this time. Kissing at first, then finding a spot high up and he starts to suck, lapping at the spot between his lips torturously slow. Then, when he's satisfied he pulls back with a noise that would be considered obscene and examines the mark.

It's stupid, but the side of Crius that wants to keep Len likes it. Likes that even after this day's done, there'll be evidence of it, even if it's only the two of them (and maybe the people of Novac) that'll know who left it.]

[ Unintentionally being too vulnerable with each other seems to be turning into an equally unfortunate - and increasingly frequent - turn of events. But feeling that little thrill run through Crius and into Len's hands is telling, something that makes him grin against the other man's skin when he starts to ask...

...and never does, shoving a hand into Len's hair, pulling him back.It isn't freely given, either: Crius meets some mischievous resistance, that smile still plastered to Len's face even as he can feel the other man exerting significant force. A soft sound of satisfaction wells up in his throat and he doesn't bother to hide it, exhaling sharply when Crius starts to leave a mark.

God, he's good at following direction. ]

That's nice, [ he purrs, eyes half-lidded, hands sliding into the back pockets of Crius' pants. ] You're suspiciously good at that.

I, Uh.... [Practiced. On himself. WHICH IS SOMETHING HE WILL NEVER ADMIT TO OUT LOUD. And hey, so it looks like Len is into being rough, what an excellent distraction! He considers for a moment making a similar mark on the other side but decides against it. Instead he backs up some into the hold that's slid onto his backside and rolls his hips, starting to rut against him while the hand still in his hair starts to tug again.

This time, however, Crius pulls him to the side, reinforcing it with his own body weight until he gets Len to move, sliding down the back of the couch and settling on the cushions. When he's there, still straddling Len, Crius lets go and looks up at hiss face.]

I swear, I could worship you, head to toe. Want to make you feel so good. [Special. As he talks he moves his hands so that Len's pinned against the couch. Occasionally another bite soothed by another kiss is placed against the expanse of Len's skin, enjoying the feeling of Len's own chest hair against Crius' face and body, still rocking himself against him.]

[ He is into being rough, which is maybe not the kind of super healthy thing a man should admit to, but like, he's out to have a good time. Who isn't?

It isn't all that difficult to shift Len over and onto his back - no resistance on his end, anyway - and he tries not to look too at-home with his palms skimming up Crius' thighs again. They slip up to his hips to grip them more firmly, rocking into him, obviously hard. Complementary, Len tips his chin up to give Crius better access to his throat and quietly thinks about all the ways he intends to absolutely ruin this man later. ]

Get your pants off, haven't gotten to see you yet-

[ Not completely. Never completely. They're always sort of clothed, having to work around schedules and narrow timelines. Len deals Crius' ass a playful slap with one hand. ]

Chop chop.

In due ti- [The sting of the slap interrupts him. It's unexpected and yet still he feels his cock twitch in his jeans. There isn't an outward reaction save for a jerk of his hips and a slightly indignant look as the fact that Crius processed that he enjoyed it washes over him.

He growls at the realization but complies, working his jeans all the way open. He gets off of Len just long enough for him to push the rest of his garments off of his body. He doesn't get back on just yet. There wasn't any sort of tone that Crius could detect when the other pointed out the fact they've never seen each other fully naked, but it sticks in his brain regardless.

They haven't seen each other completely. Flashes of this and that, but never the full picture. So Crius lets Len have his fill now, completely naked. He's fully erect, relishing in the attention. After a few moments a stupid idea crosses his mind and he follows it. He lifts his arms and flexes with a laugh, posing like the old magazines he'd occasionally find across the wasteland.]

So, what do you think? Could I be Grognak?

[ Len tries not to look too smug at the realization that Crius also doesn't mind a bit of a firm hand, seeing as he's more than happy to deliver. Might ruminate later on why that is, if it comes with the hierarchal structure they've got going on at the bunker or if it's born of something else. Either way, he'll find out eventually.

He wastes no time divesting himself of the rest of his own clothing, too impatient to let Crius do it and keen on watching him strip down, a vision of that masculine ideal one sees in the old magazines littered across the Mojave. Len's eyes track over every inch of him, head tipped speculatively to one side, borderline infuriated at how he just looks like that. ]

You're a Hell of a lot more charming.

[ Len informs him, pushing himself up off the couch with liquid confidence, hands skimming Crius' hips just as he gets near enough to touch. A mischievous grin flashes across his face. ]

But yeah, you could pull off the loincloth.

[Electric thrills run up Crius' body at the touch, and it's easy to return the smile this time. With a glint of mischief he grabs Len's wrists and guide them easily across the planes of his body. It's not difficult to see that Len's enjoying the sight, so the encouragement to have him take more is pretty easy once his nerves stop him from getting as into it as he wants to.]

Maybe I'll find one to wear next time.

[It's a joke, but it doesn't stop Crius from coming closer, keeping Len's hands on himself as he guides his hands over his muscle, twitching where he finds he's ticklish, pausing when he discovers a place he likes being touched. His cock stands ignored, though with each pass over his body he leaks pre.]

sexts from whenever

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