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It doesn't rain often in the Boneyard. Before the bombs dropped, it hadn’t rained much to begin with. Maybe thirty or forty times a year. Now New California was lucky to see rain clouds maybe half that and most of it in the early months of the year. Radstorms can last for hours, thunderstorms a lot less. But both are rare enough that one doesn't typically anticipate it.
So when the storm blows in from the south, neither Thaddeus nor Nixon are prepared.
The sky darkens all at once and the geiger counter Nix has affixed to his hip jumps into the red. The ranger grabs Thaddeus’s hand, pulling him along to a barn somehow still standing in the distance. Its metal roof groans loudly as the wind picks up and there’s just enough time to get inside before the first real drops of irradiated water begin falling from the darkening sky.
Both men are out of breath by the time they’re out of the rain and wind. Thaddeus huddles up against the rough wooden wall with Nixon standing behind him, muttering curses in a foreign language as he shivers. Thad still doesn't understand what’s being said but he’s been around the ranger enough to pick up on the cantor and context of the words.
Nixon is a strong man. Strong voice, strong words, strong sense of justice. His body is pressed solidly against the squire, strong arms wrapped around his midsection to keep him warm despite the cold rain that runs down in droplets on Thaddeus’s neck.
It’s something that Thad loves about Nixon. How safe and secure he makes him feel. Even though the former squire has a little more endurance these days thanks to a cocktail of FEV or some other shit drug, Nix still treats him like he’s human. And Thad does still look human, though he’s starting to see himself less and less like that most days. So maybe that's why he gets the sudden and mischievous idea; just a little something to make himself feel a little more human.
There’s not a single other soul around. Just the sounds of rain hitting the tin roof and the occasional bellows from brahmin off in the distance. No one to interrupt two friends getting even friendlier in an old barn. Thaddeus’s mouth curls in a lazy grin as he backs up against the other man, grinding nice and slow against his hips.
“Priye,” Nixon tries to scold him but it comes out in a hissed whimper. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Nothing, Nixxy,” he replies smugly, shifting his weight to grind against him more intensely. And even though there’s multiple layers of clothing between them, underneath the jeans and duster and underwear, he can still feel the gentle stirring of Nixxy’s cock.
The ranger swears under his breath just as he did before, “Chhod.” Thaddeus laughs in throat, rocking against the other man and welcoming the soft bucking at his backside.
The sound of the steady beatdown of rain on the roof nearly drowns out the hot and heavy and almost irritated breathing against his throat. The other man grips his hips with fingers numbed from the cold, pushing forward to make the contact even more intense. It earns a moan from the squire, tension humming through him in that same and familiar electric feeling he always gets around Nix.
“Harami,” Nix mutters, his voice tense and almost pleading. His hands dig into Thad’s hips, fingers flexing and tightening as the squire grinds against him slow and forceful like. “You’re driving me insane with this teasing.”
“Who said I was teasing?” Thaddeus’s breathless laugh is laced with arousal. He’s hard. Painfully hard under his trousers, erection straining against the layers of fabric. A month of sexual tension and a few weeks of intense encounters with the man has made the squire’s libido higher than Mount Whitney.
“Careful with that mouth of yours, priye.” Nix could be so intimidating sometimes. And if he’s trying to do so now, he’s failing. The words come out in a pathetic and desperate whine as he shifts his weight to pin Thad to the wall. Groaning, he tries to gain a little more control of the encounter and honestly, the squire is more than happy to surrender it. His eyes flutter shut while Nix kisses his ear and jaw, nipping gently at the skin. “Goddamn it, I want you.”
“Don't see the problem here.”
“Gonna make you beg for it,” he mumbles, hips snapping forward.
Thaddeus shivers, lips parting as he grinds back against the ranger. “Haven't heard me beg enough by-” his words are cut short by a sudden gasp as Nix grabs his cock through his clothes. His hand wraps around Thad like it's made to be there, earning a moan and a buck of the hips. His body is trapped between the ranger and the wall, all worked up with nowhere to run.
He groans louder, precum leaking from the head and soaking his boxers. Mercifully - or tortuously depending how you look at it - Nix releases his member and reaches for his belt buckle, working the leather loose and tugging the zipper down. A calloused hand slips into the worn elastic waistband, his fingers icy cold against the heated skin of Thad’s cock as he pushes down his jeans to bare Thad’s legs.
Cold fingers close around his manhood; Thaddeus is rigid in Nix’s arms, spine as stiff as his cock, eyes screwed shut and throat closing tightly. Cold air kisses Thad’s face, colder hands making his entire body warm as his heartbeat keeps time with the erratic raindrops hitting the roof.
Lips brush against Thad’s jaw, Nix chuckling that same smug laugh he always gives the man. He pulls back the hood of his cock, sliding rapidly warming fingers over the head and collecting precum. His touch was delicious, agonizing, tearing a guttural groan from the back of his throat that starts in his belly. Nix tuts, trying to silence him with a kiss and begins smearing his precum over his cock.
Evidently, it's not enough lubrication for whatever he has in mind, because he sticks his fingers into Thaddeus’s mouth and pushes back over his tongue. Nix’s fingers taste like gunmetal, salty and metallic, and they’re as cold as the barrel of a shotgun. Thad doesn't complain as sucks on them, his tongue lathing over calloused fingertips to coat them with spit. With each swipe of his tongue over the digits, he can feel them warming.
With a shiver, Thad relaxes against Nixon, though his thoughts don't stray far from the cock pressed against his ass. He grins around the man’s fingers, hips twitching back as if reminding him he’s still there hard and wanting. The ranger groans as he pulls the fingers from his mouth, wrapping them around the head of his cock instead.
Thaddeus is gasping for his life by the time Nix begins the slow and steady pumps. Breath coming out in ragged pants, he leans forward to brace himself against the wall. The wood is rotted, a scent of decaying cedar filling his nose and makes him dizzy in juxtaposition to the feeling of the hand wrapped around his hard-on. Thaddeus whimpers, throwing his head back and clenching his jaw in order to keep himself from crying out.
The squire is focusing on the pitter patter of rain to keep himself grounded while Nix pushes him closer and closer to that edge of bliss. He wriggles and jerks, like a freshly caught baby gulper on a fisherman’s line. He doesn't want the feeling to end, his mind focusing on any thought other than the hand wrapped around his cock in a desperate attempt to not cum. But it's too much. It's too much. His cock twitches violently in Nix’s fist as he reaches the precipice of pleasure.
“You’re so goddamn pretty like this,” Nix mutters, words dark and warm, tinged with unspoken promises. The ranger is breathing hard in the crook of Thad’s neck. He’s just as worked up as Thad is, dick trapped between layers of fabric and pressing against his backside. With a gasp and a grunt, he ruts against the ass in front of him with renewed vigor. "Mujhe tumase pyaar hai."
“Wish you’d fuck me,” Thaddeus whispers, hoping to bait the man into more friendly activities. He’s rewarded with a gentle laugh as Nix presses kisses to his neck and jaw.
“When we get back to the Fortress,” he promises. “And if you’re a good boy, priye, maybe I’ll let you bend me over the desk and spread me open like-”
His words are swallowed by Thaddeus’s mouth on his, needy and frantic. The squire rocks into him, eyes closed and huffing, catching Nix’s hand in his own and squeezing tightly. It takes more strength than it should to separate himself from Nixon when he needs air; he wants as much of their bodies touching as possible. He never wants to not be touching the ranger again.
Nix kisses him again, gently, lazily, and Thad melts into it. At times, this arrangement between the two of them still feels like a dream, but then Nixon kisses him again and again, says his name, calls him priye, and the squire remembers it is real.