005. The Fox and The Jailbird

[stealingmyway]

A hand rubs at the back of his neck, nerves stiffening his muscles like a tightened spring ready to launch. On one hand, he had a man to play with, to test the mentality of. On the other, he had a stranger with little proof of his social credibility. If things went sour, he'd only have a moment to take the revolver out of his cassock and do what

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[pocket_pal]

Fortunately, Mr Slobbering Git-sans actual slobbering, for the record-doesn't make a habit of gnawing through people's ears. ...We presume. The bite is short-lived, and as soon as his teeth slide off to meet with a click, that's the end of it, lips and all. The fuzz on his chin grazes across a cheek. His breath follows. For a moment it may seem as though he's sneaking his mouth around the curve of Cameron's face to steal a kiss, but his tilted head draws back instead as he straightens his spine.

Evidently, Theodore wants to have a look at the blond as a full portrait, rather than bits and pieces too close to properly see. His chin lifts just a touch, and heavy-lidded eyes aim their hawkish stare at that wonderful soft face. The corners of his mouth pull into something that falls just short of a smile. Smug, maybe. No, not quite that-who knows? Whatever it was, it's gone now, replaced by a more conventional expression: oh, such mischief. Such a twinkle in his dark eye. One of those deep, rascally chuckles of his creeps from the back of his throat, his lower lip disappearing behind a row of teeth. By all means, fiddle with buttons in the meantime. He's more than happy to stay still long enough to make that possible.

He drags his left hand across the bricks toward Cameron's head, traces his fingers down the curve of that lovely jaw and to the underside of the lad's chin, where one digit pushes gently upward. When he's satisfied-and only when eye contact is maintained will he be satisfied-he leans in, head canted, and...!
"Need is a strong word. Tell me why."

[stealingmyway]

Fuck. One thing that makes these situations more difficult than they need to be is questions. Cameron's mind is already half-drowning in lust, the other dry section used to plot and scheme his way out of tight spots (no pun intended). Questions fall just below the sloshing waters that bog his thoughts.

Each action presents several branching continuations. And those continuations present several actions for each choice made. Like a gnarled and twisting tree millions of years old, the Game leads to an infinite number of possible endings. Some good. Some bad. Some strange. Some as normal as daylight. But this one? This one has a few less than suitable options.

Break down and weep for sex. Get offended and tell him off. Explain that it's part of a healing process. Rethink your morals and change your mind. Withhold the blow job until he gives up the questioning. So many more. Cameron squirms slightly inside the guarding arms that trap him. The gritty scrape of the street to the soles of his shoes clean, audible signs of his fidgeting. Those blue orbs station on Theodore's hawking gaze and flicker into shades of sorrow, objection, and finally into a some driving emotion--real? Who can tell?

If he says the wrong thing, something even remotely offensive, there might be trouble. If he says something weak and pathetic, his reputation as a good man could be under surveillance. What to do? Oh, Cameron. What to do? "Because it's what I want." His expression churns into shame, head tilting down and turning away. Hiding his unworthy eyes from this normal man. Yeah. Right. "It's wrong of me t'want it."

[pocket_pal]

As the blond head tilts, that one nudging finger remains where it was, hanging in the air for a beat and then curling slowly as it recedes. Aw, look at him. Poor thing. A different man might choose this moment to be sympathetic, reassuring... but not him. His expression remains unchanged, unaffected by the sudden shift in mood. The hand that once so gently touched that face now reaches to curl and take firm hold of his jaw. Firm, but not painful. Just enough to suggest that perhaps it would be a good idea for Cameron to lift his head again, to put the beautiful snapshot back where it was.

He must see this expression. Study it calmly. The hand loosens in short order, slipping down to the soft skin of his neck... and pauses. The squeezing of his fingertips is almost imperceptible-more of a promise than an action. Then his face is right there, nose past nose, his mouth right up against the corner of the softest, sweetest lips that have ever touched him. "Maybe so." Soft as silk, he mutters there, while that one worrying hand slips around back and carefully spreads its fingers up and into Cameron's hair, thumb resting in the crease behind his ear. "But I don't care. And right now?" Along with the gentle lilt in his voice, he tilts his head just so; their lips meet, contact feather-light. "Neither should you." This isn't nearly as much of a suggestion as it sounds.

[stealingmyway]

Slightly alarmed eyes widen at the touch at his neck, head snapping up to let that dread seep into the sight of the other man. Playing the innocent. Not entirely unfounded is his startled response. Even if he's not showing it, Cameron is already weaving out the paths he could take should the southern hawk make the wrong move against him. Cautious.

The lack of concern from Theodore goes noted but remains unmentioned. How interesting. Chapped lips meet in sweet sensation to the well-treated and lightly glossed gate, trembling somewhat as the other speaks honey-dipped hushed words. Alright, John. The boy understands.

He leans forward to place a soft kiss against the corner of Teddy's lips, nudging and nuzzling and kissing his way down to the mans collar. zzzzzxt Down, down, down the blonde slowly sways, hips drifting from one leg to the other, legs parting wide as he lowers beyond the others stomach. Still kissing, breathing hot and heavily into the fabric covering his silent commander.

Being trapped against the wall left him with little room to move. Oh well. Make due with what you have. He still has more than enough space to announce his arrival to the opened fly with a long, hot lick over sweaty denim and thinned undergarments, sealing his offer with a pressing kiss to the erection right in front of his face.

[pocket_pal]

There. Much better. Although, let it be said that there is a slight twinge of disappointment somewhere in that rooster-combed head of his. He might have liked to play a little bit. Press the issue, some. Maybe a stronger grip around that neck, or a handful of hair in his fist. Trembling mouth and bloody nose. Cameron drifts down, down, and Teddy's thoughts drift off to some terrible place inside, eyes closed and teeth worrying at the slick inside wall of his mouth. Bite, bite, and mutter. "That's it."

One hand follows Cameron down, resting on his shoulder until he stops-it strokes once at his hair before settling upon his skull instead. Not to direct, though. Just touching for the sake of it. "Therrre you go." ..Yes, because he needs your guidance in this matter. His tongue slithers out from between his teeth to wet his lips, stays pressed against the upper-ah. There you go, indeed: deep breath becomes low, throaty grumble. It is the happiest sound in all the land.