I don't like walking around this old and empty house.

[the_marshal]

WHO| Wyatt and Semi-OTA (Open physically to anyone with him in District 10, with some preset threads for Howard and Max in the comments.)
WHAT| Bb gets with the times.
WHERE| District 10
WHEN| A day or two after arriving in the Districts.
Warnings/Notes| Some mild swearing perhaps? Edit: Two clueless gents flirting over the skype equivalent below. You are warned. Edit edit: It went a bit beyond flirting. Gird yourself.



Wyatt had made a promise to Howard, and he was determined to keep it. After settling in as best as he could in their temporary housing, he dug out his communicator and set about trying to get the thing to work.

At one of the heavy, thick-cut tables in the dining room, he moved his fingers over the keys just as he remembered watching Howard do -- and somehow set off a bell, a shrill alarm that cut through the quiet of the late morning like a knife through warm butter. Quickly, he clapped his hands over it and stabbed another button, managing to silence it out of sheer luck.

Glancing around, he nodded in apology to those at the nearest tables - trying to ignore the heat threatening to curl around the back of his neck - and tried again.

That time he nearly blinded himself.

Wiping the bright flash from his eyes, cursing lowly to himself, he dropped the device on the table and leaned back in his chair in defeat.

Time to consider a re-approach.

Comments

[the_marshal]

Wyatt's eyebrows jumped, teeth flashing handsomely as he laughed - a warm, rumbling chuckle. His thumb touched the screen in turn, chasing the stroke of the other man's - lingering when they met.

"That sounds an awful lot like a challenge," he murmured. "Ya best be careful what ya wish for."

[gluteus]

"I know exactly what I'm wishing for," Maximus said, the smile turning rueful, and he wished for a moment that he was inside, in his room, instead of out here in the open. He quietly started making his way back to his lodging.

"Have you ever known me to back down from a challenge?"

[the_marshal]

His mind turned over the possibilities of Max's wishes, wondered heatedly if they were the same as his own. (Thoughts of miles crossed, of warm skin, a low rumbling laugh in his ear....)

His Adam's Apple lurched, a noticeable bob in his throat as he swallowed.

"Big talk for a man a few thousand miles away," he teased, the drawl rough and thick. "I bet you'll be singin' a different tune once we're back."

[gluteus]

His smile only widened, slowly becoming a grin, even as the biting wind whipped around him.

"Are you doubting my patience? Or my consistency?" Maximus asked, an eyebrow arched high even as a snowflake caught in it.

"I can wait a very long time to prove it, Wyatt. But prove it I will."

[the_marshal]

Wyatt's head ducked, but the dark brim of his hat wasn't quite enough to hide the way he grinned. The way he locked his lower lip before looking back up into the camera.

"Not too long, I hope," he admitted, eyes glinting playfully down at the lens.

[gluteus]

"Well, for that I'm afraid you'll have to appeal to the gods," Maximus teased.

He finally reached the building in which they were housed, pushed open the doors and stepped into the lobby, still grinning down at his screen.

"Pleas of that nature usually require sacrifice."

[the_marshal]

He watched the scenery change behind Max, the image bopping slightly as the man moved and unconsciously, he began to drift. Slipping around the corner and back out on the street, bracing against the wind as he walked.

"Yer the expert," he replied. "Ya got somethin' in mind?"

Truth told, there was very little that he wouldn't be willing to give in Max's name.

[gluteus]

His grin widened into something mischievous as he walked towards the stairs.

"I'm no priest. But from what I understand, they generally prefer a sacrifice of flesh."

[the_marshal]

He nearly tripped, minding Max's face (his mouth), more than the uneven cobblestones beneath his feet. He saved himself, boot scuffing over the stone, but could do nothing to stop the heat in his chest, licking up around his collar.

"...That sounds like somethin' the good folks here might frown upon," he said, coughing roughly to clear his throat of gravel. "'Spose I aught to attempt it somewhere more private like."

[gluteus]

Maximus couldn't help himself, chuckling lowly. "Perhaps," He allowed. He hadn't really thought these contraptions particularly useful until now.

Not until he suddenly could see very clear uses for it.

"I find that the quarters they've afforded us give a good deal of privacy."

He was half way up the stairs to his now.

[the_marshal]

"I have got my own room," Wyatt murmured in agreement, thoughtfully as the possibilities tumbled around in his head. He hadn't given the little devices a whole lot of credit before, but here they were, a country apart, speaking as if they were in the same room.

Maybe he aught to edit his list of things the Capitol had gotten right.

"Ain't nobody there to see but you an' me."

He slipped inbetween a pair of wooden pillars, supporting the second floor balcony of a restaurant, and moved down the sidewalk, returning to the massive building the District had provided for their quarters.

I feel so sorry for whoever is assigned to listen in on them in the capitol

[gluteus]

"Nobody but us and the gods," Maximus murmured, unable to keep the grin from his lips as he reached the top of the stairs. He really wasn't a religious man, but if they were going to keep up the ruse of sacrifices...

"I'll have to take to my own to watch, I think, if you don't mind my prying eyes."

He really couldn't help but tease.

[the_marshal]

The heavy door creaked and groaned as he pulled it open, and slammed shut behind him on a hard gust, snow dancing around him before settling and disappearing - little spots of wet on his coat and hat as it melted.

"Seems fair 'nough," Wyatt replied, catching the inside of his cheek between his teeth, trying to fight a grin as he slipped around a gaggle loitering just inside the door and headed for the stairs. "I do want'a get it right."

[gluteus]

"It's a simple enough ritual," Maximus said casually, though he was still grinning, unable to fight it with nearly Wyatt's efficiency.

"Ancient, and intuitive. I've no doubt you'll get a handle on it easily enough."

[the_marshal]

The background turned to wood, dark and paneled, the camera bouncing slightly as Wyatt moved up the stairs - at a clip faster than he'd normally take them.

"We might have to take it slow there for a bit..." He should have felt like a, a grown man, behaving like some boy barely into his peachfuzz. But Lord help him, he didn't care. "But with yer help, I should get there."

[gluteus]

Maximus found the door to his room and leisurely opened it, stepping in and closing it behind him. A single brow was arched high on his forehead.

"Oh? I will be all the help I can, of course. If there was anything particular in mind that you believe would be beneficial--"

[the_marshal]

"A demonstration, wouldn't be remiss," Wyatt said, and it was his turn to grin. Unable to stop himself as he watched the door close behind Max's head. As his own door neared. "I've always learned better by example."

[gluteus]

"Well, I will endeavour to do all in my power to teach you," Maximus murmured, unable to completely hide the teenage glee, as he stepped over to his bed.

As he slipped the thick cloak from his shoulders.

[the_marshal]

He almost stopped. Almost - as the fur slide over Max's shoulders and his heart thumped, a hard, hot beat against his ribs. He could almost taste.... His back teeth clamped together, choking back a groan of frustration.

(The little box could do a lot of things, but somehow he suspected he still wouldn't be able to touch him.)

Eager to find something to do with his itching hands, he let himself into his room - closing the door behind him with a little more force than necessary. The lock clicked decidedly.

"...Alright," he rumbled into the camera, a painting of a small, snowy cottage flashing over his shoulder as he moved around the room. As he tugged on the curtains, sliding them closed over the window. "I'm all yers, General. What'er yer instructions?"

[gluteus]

He set the camera down on the bedside table, angled a little off-kilter, but so that most of the bed was in frame. He was out of it, for the moment, and just off the edge of the screen his cloak was draped over a chair.

"Well, you certainly can't aim to appeal to the Gods in such attire," Maximus teased, his voice oddly far away.

[the_marshal]

"Is that so?" he asked, leaning slightly as Max disappeared - as if hoping if he moved, so would the camera. When it didn't he straightened again, mustache twitching in amusement. "Well, I'll jus' have to fix that, won't I?"

Setting his own camera down, he stepped back and moved away. The coat slipped off his shoulders, one hand lifted the hat from his head, and he hung both on the post at the end of the bed. He tugged the tails of his shirt out of his trousers and slowly began to slip the buttons from their holes.

[gluteus]

Maximus reappeared in a moment, glad only in his linen tunic, his fingers already undoing the great clasp of his wide belt as he sat down on the edge of the bed in front of the camera. His skin was slightly ruddy, though whether he was embarrassed or excited he couldn't say, and was likely both anyway.

"Now you're getting the hang of it," He murmured lowly, his voice slightly husky as he let the belt drop to the floor.

[the_marshal]

"I'm afraid I ain't got nothin' else," Wyatt murmured, glancing up at the clatter, eyes fixing for a long moment on Max's hands - on the hem on the tunic, pulled tight over his thighs. "This ol' skin'll have to do."

The last of the buttons came free and the shirt parted over his chest, revealing tanned skin and a muscled torso - scarred, and lightly flushed.

The cold, he told himself, despite the little kick in his chest. The strange tightening in his gut.

Max had certainly seem him bare before - why did he feel as anxious as a boy with his first now?

[gluteus]

"I don't think anyone is going to complain about that skin of yours now," Maximus murmured quietly, sliding up onto the bed so that the camera had just the slightest angle to catch a glimpse up underneath his tunic.

Apparently he wasn't wearing anything else.

He leaned back, leisurely, the grin impossible to keep down as he watched Wyatt, edging his fingers to pull his tunic up his thighs.

[the_marshal]

Wyatt's mouth pulled, pleasure flashing quickly in his eyes as they flicked up to meet Max's, his fingers pausing just a moment on the collar of his shirt before he finished easing it off.

"I 'spose I might be able to rustle up a fig leaf or some such," he replied, shrugging the shirt down off his shoulders and turning to hang it up with the coat. "But I'd hate to keep 'em waitin'."

He kicked out his boots, pushing them under the edge of the bed and reached for his belt. Pulling on the leather in time to the curl of Max's fingers, pulling on his tunic.