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]

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.

[gluteus]

"I think that's very wise," Maximus replied, his breath getting huskier by the second as he watched Wyatt's deft fingers work.

As his own slowly edged the hem of his tunic up to the top of his thigh, quietly but surely baring everything that lay heavy and hot below.

[the_marshal]

It was then that those clever fingers of his faltered, fumbling on the buckle as longing hit him hard. A fist to the gut that stole his breath, tightened his throat.

"Max..." he groaned roughly, swallowing thickly as in his mind he saw those fingers moving - could feel them... a heated memory, playing out on his skin. "I'd pray to the Devil himself right now if we could be together."

Here, there, didn't even matter to him - so long as they were together.

[gluteus]

"Soon," He promised, the weight of the word firm and heavy as his thighs spread, his tunic stretching across his hips as his hand slipped between his legs.

Wyatt wasn't the only one who's mind was overrun with daydreams.

"No need to forsake your God quite yet," He whispered as he slowly took himself in hand and gave a careful stroke.

[the_marshal]

His breath came again in hard exhale, driven out by the sharp kick of his heart, thudding loudly against his ribs. Feeling the touch as if Max had reached out and had taken him in hand instead. His thighs clenched, his knees weakened, and he heard himself admitting, "Maybe I'll ask for help with these damn pants instead."

Just then, as he wrestled the belt open and fought with the button and zipper, he could truly appreciate the benefits of Max's tunics.

[gluteus]

Maximus chuckled, breathy and low, moving incredibly slowly even though his blood hammered in his veins.

He knew what Wyatt had meant.

Would give anything to reach through that screen and pull the man into his bed.

"I'd help if I could," He assured him roughly. "As it is, I can only bear witness."

[the_marshal]

"...Maybe for the best. If ya could, I can't promise I'd--" The low rumble broke off as Wyatt finally freed himself from the confines of his trousers. From the too tight underclothes beneath, stretched over his hips.

Backing up against the bed, he pushed the fabric down over his hard thighs. Gave himself just enough room to lean back, to reach down and cup himself. To circle his thumb over heated flesh.

[gluteus]

Maximus felt his breath catch, his heart skip a beat only to return with a slam against his ribs. His grip on himself tightened, the leisurely strokes beginning to quicken and take on a more purposeful pace.

"... Can't promise you'd..." He prompted, husky and breathless, his eyes locked on the screen.

[the_marshal]

It had been awhile, if he was honest. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd indulged himself, but Max had been right, it was intuitive. Easy.

Easier, even, listening to Max - sounding like he was there, with him. Watching him, imaging that he was.

His hips flexed, a rhythmic thrust to match the stroke of his hand. To match Max's.

"Last..." The word was low and rough, caught somewhere between a chuckle and a moan. "...The things you do to me..."

[gluteus]

He certainly wouldn't have bothered if Wyatt hadn't been on the other end of the line, if he couldn't hear the man's husky rumble, couldn't watch his hips flex, couldn't watch Wyatt's fingers curl and stroke.

"Soon as we get back," He promised breathlessly, his free hand gripping into his thigh as his strokes grew ever more desperate.

[the_marshal]

There in the heartbeat before he lost himself completely to the sight and sounds of Max, to the feel of his own hand - before he gave himself up to the wild tumblings of his mind, he remembered that this was supposed to be a sacrifice, however jokingly, to whatever powers might be out there. A plea to whoever might be listening, to guarantee that there would be a next time, that they would go back.

But there was only one word, one name, that held any value to Wyatt.

He murmured Max's name, a thick pant, as he twisted, turning to close his teeth on the comforter. Struggling for purchase as pleasure threatened to wash him away.

[gluteus]

Gods, but Maximus was convinced he'd never seen anything more erotic. At least not anything that he couldn't then immediately taste and touch. The distance between them only made it that much worse - an untouchable longing, a desperate yearning, as Wyatt's panted murmur filled his ears and made his blood race.

He managed to growl Wyatt's name back, and when his eyelids flickered he could almost believe, for a moment, that the rough calloused fingers stroking him roughly weren't his own. That the hand desperately pulling him towards release was Wyatt's, and his breath was against his ear--

[the_marshal]

Wyatt wanted to watch, wanted to see the answering tide sweep over Max. The stroke of his fingers were mesmerizing. Each roll of his hips a thrust of pleasure in his gut, arching in his blood, pushing him higher, closer....

But the edge was already there, that yawning cliff already crumbling beneath his feet. The heat broke over him, the last of senses stolen away.

His hips thrust desperately against his palm, seeing only Max. Feeling him in his arms, tasting him beneath his lips despite the distance as he tumbled into the darkness.

[gluteus]

It was incredible, hearing it. Seeing it. Watching it, and knowing, as he moaned deeply, the pleasure crashing through him like a tidal wave, that he was sharing it.

That no matter the distance Wyatt was still in the room with him.

He broke, Wyatt's name on his lips as he came, helplessly thrusting into his palm with each ragged wave of pleasure.

[the_marshal]

It was a long moment, coming back, sinking back into his bones, and the first thing Wyatt did, after opening his eyes and finding the camera again, was reach out. Pull the little thing closer, press his fingers to the screen. As if he might touch him, might be able to pull him into his arms.

The desire was there, to speak, but he didn't have the strength for it. Not just then.

For the best, probably. He didn't want to ruin the moment.