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]

This area of wherever-town wasn't his first choice. Well, technically, he didn't have any choice-it's a little hard to pick and choose when you don't really know your way around the entire area. This grimy little section of town is most familiar to him, and even then he only knows a certain number of streets. Given enough time, though, every turn, every filthy nook and cranny of this place will be his in memory.

As Cameron-in-a-cassock passes by a certain dimly lit alleyway, the distinctive shape of Mr. Bagwell recedes into obscurity, lingering in the open only long enough for the lad to see. It's not a particularly dirty alley, at least. No rotting cats or whatnot. There's at least one large dumpster, but it's just recently been emptied, its potential for stench limited only to whatever's clinging to the rust inside.

As for our pal T-Bag? The walk cooled him down, some. No more clenched jaw, no more throaty growl-only two dark eyes staring hawk-like, greedily devouring every detail of Cameron's approach.

[stealingmyway]

His eyes are everywhere to track faces and sights to the very inch. His skin feels the air for changes of temperature and humidity, rubbing a thumb over the heel of his palm to 'taste' the alterations. He's no more cautious now than he would be on a job, but at least he doesn't show it tonight. The movement out of the corner of his eye indicates his friend has not left him to fend for himself in this acrid smelling end of the city. Always a plus

[pocket_pal]

"Yeah, well... beggars can't be choosers." Nor can transient convicts, evidently. Truth be told, our swaggering friend has secured himself a little room in a building a few blocks over, but he's not about to bring anyone home for tea and crumpets-a little caution left over from his days on the lam.

A quick look around the area yields... not much. Oh, but look. What luck: it's a stack of crates. He huffs a wordless syllable, something that was probably meant to be a laugh, and doesn't even bother to share whatever dorky quip came to mind. Instead he tilts his head just so, waiting to move until his tongue has passed across his lip for the thousandth time. A few slow, deliberate steps later, he's coming awfully close to crowding Cameron in a manner that seems awfully personal considering how little time they've spent interacting.

What. At least he's forthright.

[stealingmyway]

It's Taega's move, just made in someone else's body. As much as any other man would fling himself back and away from such an suspicious looking creature, Cameron is not one of those men. The priestly looking blonde stands his ground as though he has no qualms with breaking the laws of physics and sharing his space with T-Bag. The only change made is in his eyes. The vivacious twinkle is snuffed out like the flickering flame of a candle and replaced with the predatory scrutiny of a man who wished to warn the trespassing soul to watch his step.

"Shall we walk or shall we sit?"

[stealingmyway]

Mmmmm. The tongue retreats slowly back behind a grin. Tastes like victory. The mans brawny taste lingers on the edges of his tongue, a flavor that easily makes the hay haired man salivate. Eyelids flutter before rolling orbs of blue as the young man finds himself relishing in his triumph. Inside of those expensive polished shoes wiggle satisfied toes.

To the victor go the spoils, he supposed. Still close enough to the other being, their positions not having changed, a Bible relieved hand ushers slowly up Theodore's form; from bone of hip up to breast of his shirt to rest for the time being. To complete the domination of the opposing team, Cameron tends to the moist path of his tongue's accomplishment with soft 'hush kisses'. The lips are slightly parted and simply brush against the skin as the motions of a kiss are made.

[pocket_pal]

You sneaky little bugger, tricking him into honking like that. And now, what's this? Trying to distract him with further debauchery? Well, it's working. Make no mistake, however; by no means is our man in a surrendering mood. Never in his life has he submitted to the will of another person, except by pure force. He's sure as hell not about to roll over and beg this kid for a bone

[stealingmyway]

"Boy, you evah see one o' dese b'fore?"

Cameron's eyes lifted slowly like they were weighted down by a ton of bricks. A lazy, almost sleepy looking, expression soiled his boyish face, his reflection staring beside him in the bathroom mirror of the small, shitty apartment. The Texan had brought out his steer for the boy to tend to. The blonde stumbled forward, wrapping his arms around the neck of a short, balding businessman before exhaling slowly next to his ear. His voice is hoarse but soft, sweet. That easy listening station you can't help but to linger on.

"Easy, lovely. I want t'milk him for all 'ee's worth. Cann'a do that with you a'ready on your way, now can I?" A drug enduced grin drifted onto the boys lips, the southern man grinning back.

"You talk purty. Say somethin' else fer me."That hand rises to cup and glide gentle touch to the fine hairs on the back of Teddy's neck. Fingernails barely brush against the skin as the holy man takes to quick thought. Cameron swallows quietly, having to do so or risk drooling on Mr.

[pocket_pal]

Another surprised huff of breath is Cameron's first reward for his filthy, filthy words; but sorry, no squeak this time. He half expected something suggestive to come sliding off the lad's silver tongue, but... just. God damn. Literally, even! See, there should probably be a little voice in his head, or a little angel on his shoulder. A fairy godmother. Anything, anything at all-but when he listens for that voice, the only thing he hears is the growl in his own throat, and he bares his teeth to the side of Cameron's head in response.

Easy, now. Easy, easy... that's right. Turn the snarl into a smile. A sharp, halting chuckle manages to slip past teeth and tongue. Quiet. So careful and so quiet. "I'll think about it." Oh, really. Well, it isn't a lie, at least

[stealingmyway]

Back on track. Excellent! The holy helper snuggles closer to the blood thumping erection, hands easing the edges of the mans jeans and combination briefs so he can gain better access to the heated length. The hold is gentle but full fingered, each digit wrapped around the shaft. It's tilted up, those blues thoughtfully inspecting it. At least this one didn't have dirt on it. :/

Teasing exhales breathe warm, moist air over the head while the pad of the blonde's thumb glides over the smooth dome of skin. Ready? Lips part to replace his thumb in its caress of the figure. How badly do -you- want it? Cameron's free hand slips up the bottom of the mans shirt, bringing tender touch to the torso, just beneath the happy trail. Ready as I'm gunna be.Again, it was tilted up, this time to allow admittance of that tongue. From base to tip it made its path, slow and tantalizing with the additional pressure made by the steel ball sitting in the middle of that wet muscle. Back to the head and lips sealed over the round in a kiss. Instead of breaking

[pocket_pal]

Cameron will be happy to know that aside from the distinct lack of dirt, there are no other, er, abnormalities, either apparent or unseen. T-Bag keeps his pipes clean, he does

[stealingmyway]

This part seemed more or less the boring part. As they say, getting there is half the adventure. The other half is redundant in-out, waxon-waxoff garbage. Cameron breathes easy through his nose as his mouth engulfs the length of Teddy's cock. The inside of his cheeks pet and laminate to the contour of the shaft. His lips flex and squeeze with each sweep from the head to the base. Every 'in' meets to the back of his mouth, the soft tip tickling his gag-reflex. Man, is he thankful he's been taught how to ignore that or else this might have been icky.

The hand which cradles the base tightens, jerking to match every in-out, every rush forward to meet the curls at the bottom. He has to concentrate on just getting this done and not how degrading this moment is. Easily done.

[pocket_pal]

Degrading doesn't quite describe the whole of it, actually-let us all be thankful that Cameron is not telepathic.

Both of the convict's palms flatten against the wall, followed by his forearms, and one arm bends into a makeshift pillow for his head while the other touches things aimlessly. Bricks, soft hair, the fingers on his belly... they linger there the longest, tracing over knuckles and nails as though to memorize. Shouldn't be much longer now. He's just muttered something unintelligible, bitten at his own skin through the fabric of his shirt. Restless. His eyes open to stare blearily down at the bobbing head below, and through his teeth, around the pinched wrinkle of jersey cotton he grunts. His hand hovers over Cameron's skull, tense and trembling, fingers bumping gently against it as it moves. It would be so easy. Quick and hard, wait 'til just after you're done, and-Eyelids squeeze shut, and his hand finds brick instead. The reward for this incredible act of restraint sneaks up on him not a moment later. There's a certain

[pocket_pal]

"Aah, he prob'ly gets off on this stuff." Let go? What? The concept is alien to this man in his warm-and-fuzzy state. Wishful thinking, maybe-not that it makes any sense for a man to have a prison bitch outside of prison. But that's neither here nor there.

Past the blond's head, suspicious eyes track the shape of a person passing by the mouth of the alley until it disappears, whereupon he hums thoughtfully and makes a show of fingering his scratchy goatee, mouth opening for no other reason than to work his jaw. Until he uses it to make a sound, of course. "Ssspeaking of which. Perhaps we should find ourselves somewhere a little more private... maybe see what you're hidin' under that little black dress'a yours." Good grief.

[stealingmyway]

The sound of footsteps. The smell of cheep booze. Cameron's face lowers, hiding behind that hair as if ashamed to be seen. The spare hand covers the small white collar. Shame. Guilt. Good acting.

His head lifts, tilting in what seems to be mild awe of the man. Was he serious? It hadn't even been ten minutes of recovery time. "Ng," he sighs, putting that free hand on the others clasping digits. Pat pat. C'mon, you crazy bastard. Let -go-. "As much as I'd like t'further me shame an' guilt for the actions just committed, Theodore...I 'ave t'get dinner ready an' try t'make a new campaign for work. Try an' see if I can't reach out t'the kiddies an' pull them int'God's good light."

[pocket_pal]

No, see, his master plan is to get to this yet-to-be-determined private setting without worrying about pesky little details like energy or recovery, since he knows he'll be ready again by that point anyway. Neither is work a particularly important factor for T-Bag's consideration, nor a valid excuse-nobody wants to work when they could play. It's just pretext to him. He doesn't like that. Even if it isn't, there's no way to convince him otherwise.

Cameron the wonder-priest's reward for that tender gesture is to have his other hand caught up as well, this time definitely at the wrist. Teddy's eyes momentarily squint shut, his eyebrows draw together some, and his mouth purses into a smile, like he's remembering something delicious. Maybe the best peach cobbler he ever had. Maybe he's not thinking about food at all. We're probably better off not knowing. "Mm mm mm mmm. You an' your campaign. One-man army, gonna sssave the world. What about me? Why don't you shine some'a that good light over this way so I can get me a heavenly tan

[stealingmyway]

Remember those wrong turns and gnarled branches from a while back? Yeah, this was starting to look like that. Cameron's eyes drop to his trapped hands, not liking the situation this was turning into. And that tone he's using? Not helping the blonde to ignore that little alarm going off in his head.

The predatory warning within his eyes returns and is slathered in his stern look to the other man. "Theodore. I'm goin' t'be completely honest wi'chou an' tell you that I don't like your actions right now, nor your tone. Even if you mean well. Now, please let go."

[stealingmyway]

Excellent. That went well. Satisfied with his efforts to free himself, Cameron takes but a moment brush off his wrists and straighten his now wrinkled cuffs. A sigh leaves him before he steps closer, careful to stay out of Teddy's kicking range. Those fingers steeple, tips tapping together in thought. "See. I didn'a want t'do that. I apologize."

But, what's this? He makes no effort to help the man up! Cameron just stands to the side, looking slightly disappointed in this being sprawled out on the slimy ground. A hand rises idly to scratch at his neck. "But, I did ask nicely."

[pocket_pal]

And from the ground below, T-Bag stares up at the young man as he stands there, offering no assistance whatsoever. Yeah, okay. He deserved that, and he knows it-this much is evident in the fact that his grumpy demeanor, with the crooked frown and the knotted brow, is obviously not entirely genuine. He's just doing it for show. Had this event happened elsewhere, say back home, rest assured he would be up like lightning and ready to scrap. However, not only is there no-one around and therefore no real cause for embarrassment, but... seriously, the man did just suck him off a few minutes ago, and this grants him some degree of clemency.

"Yeah, yeah..." Grumbling and grunting, he sits himself up and checks out a little road rash on the palm of his hand. Aah, whatever. That's not important, for now it is time to hold out a hand, and... nothing. Oh, you little jerk. "Come on, now, Cameron, gimme a hand." He's old and feeble, take pity on him.

[stealingmyway]

Those emotionless eyes staple to the fallen rooster. What a sight. He knows he could regret helping the man up. He knows that Theodore might just give up being a dick and actually apologize. It's a slim chance, but it's there. ...Yeah, he's going to regret helping.

A hand extends, but pulls back as it nears the dirty palm. "I'm gunna 'elp you, with the hope that you will stand up an' act civil an' nice. I don't want this t'turn int'a an incident, Theodore. Unde'stand?" There. It's out and fingers have now gripped onto the wrist of the older man. Here's hoping!

[pocket_pal]

Fear not, young sir, for our pal Theodore seems to be finished horsing around for the time being. Hand grips wrist, and with a mild and unnecessary grunt of exertion, he's up and on his feet-and he lets go without fanfare or fireworks, immediately occupying himself with brushing the grit from his butt and elsewhere. Pat, pat, scuff, and then his hands wipe at one another in some futile attempt to remove the feeling of yuck from his fingers. "Y'know, it's funny..." He pauses to sniff a hand, makes a quick what-the-hell sort of face, and goes on. "I've broken jaws for less than that." And slit throats, and spilled entrails, and many more jolly exercises in sadism besides.

"But you, blondie..." He claps a friendly hand down on Cameron's shoulder. "Well, there's just somethin' about you. I dunno..." And he is totally just doing this so he can wipe his hand on your cassock. Oh, he's ready to grin. It's hiding, waiting for the right moment to reappear.