Taking a break from the internet, everything feels like a minefield, and I’m just tired, and my mental health hasn’t been the greatest lately. I’m going to enjoy things without the internet, maybe take walks near the lake and take my dog out for a walk. I don’t think I want to spend time online anymore. I'll check in maybe every week, but that's it. Hope everyone is having a great summer, by the way!
About a week or so after what happened in my last drawing, Danse is at the Muddy Rudder with Cutler, trying to enjoy a somewhat cold beer while sporting a fresh black eye. Everything is going well until he notices one patron being a little too mouthy to Bonny, Cutler says to let Brock handle it.
More Pre-Brotherhood Danse!! Been wanting to draw this type of outfit on him for a WHILE and my last one gave me some good practice lol I love drawing clothes
Writers! What books would you recommend to help novices improve? Especially to those who get overwhelmed easily? Those whose minds work fast and have difficulty to recollecting thoughts.
"Look at you," Trav croons, stepping back to admire the view. "Already such a mess… You can't even stand up straight."
"Fuck… you… Trav…" Clifford pants.
A dark chuckle skates across his senses as Travis palms his ass.
"Oh baby… you're about to."
~
In a forgotten room of Camp McCarran, Sergeant Cliff Walton and Corporal Travis Álvarez of the New California Republic blow off some steam…
~
"I thought I'd find you here," Travis drawls as he slips into the supply room. The door snicks shut behind him sending dust motes dancing through the air. Warped shelves and desks litter the space between them.
"Corporal…" Clifford says dryly. " I didn't expect to see you today."
"Oh, you know me," Travis chuckles, shimmying through the maze of dented metal. "Always popping up where I'm least expected."
He jumps up to sit on the desk beside Clifford. The movement jostles the neatly arranged gun parts laid out before him and he sighs through his nose.
"Watch the gear, asshole," he barks.
Travis smirks.
"What's wrong, Walton?" He taunts. "Never heard you complain before."
Clifford's lips quirk to one side before he can prevent it and he feigns a cough. He drops his gaze as his hands automatically begin rearranging the rifle parts into size order.
"What do you want, Álvarez?"
Travis watches as Cliff's hands swiftly right his disarray. Always so predictable. So easy to rile. Dexterous fingers start to reassemble the weapon with quiet confidence.
His lips spread into a wide grin as he leans back on his palms.
"Who's to say? Maybe I just felt like it?"
Clifford laughs.
"Cut the crap, Travis," he scoffs. "Don't tell me you actually missed me?"
Heat threatens to stain Trav's cheeks. He runs his tongue across his lower lip, stalling. He swallows once.
"So what if I did?"
Another laugh rumbles through Clifford's chest as he lays down his rifle, fully assembled. He stands.
"Dangerous words, Corporal." He tilts his head back to meet Trav's gaze. His eyes narrow as he folds his arms over his chest. "I'm not even sure you can handle me." His voice is cool but heat stains his cheeks.
A dark laugh scrapes past Travis' throat. Clifford's pulse races as he turns his back on the corporal.
"I'm going to make you eat those words, Sergeant." Trav grins as he catches Cliff's wrist, pulling him back to face him. "Among other things."
Stray armaments clatter to the ground as Travis crushes his mouth to Cliff's. He walks them back until Clifford's ass hits the wall and a soft gasp parts his lips.
"Fuck, Trav," he groans, but the words are stolen by the hot press of Travis' mouth.
Clifford's hands trace the strong lines of Travis' back, pulling him closer. He slips beneath the pale cotton of his shirt, dragging his fingertips over the warm skin beneath. His tongue tangles with Trav's and his eyes squeeze shut as he loses himself to the taste.
Travis snakes one hand up to twist in Clifford's hair. Curling his fingertips against the sergeant's scalp, he grins as his composure begins to unwind. A breathy groan builds in his throat and his cheeks flush with crimson as the sound slips free. His other hand slips from Cliff's waist to grab his ass. He squeezes, kneading the taut flesh until another delicious groan spills from Clifford's lips.
"You were saying?" He whispers hotly, hauling Cliff by the ass to press against him. Bracing himself with a knee between his thighs, Trav moans as his cock presses against Cliff's hip.
Cliff shudders at the contact. He rolls his hips. Desperate for any friction Travis will allow he grinds against his thigh.
Too soon, Travis pulls away.
Clifford watches him through his lashes.
"What's the matter, Álvarez?" He rasps. "That all you've got?"
He pants through kiss-plumped lips and waits.
Travis chuckles, low and dark the sound skitters across Clifford's skin.
"I'm only just getting started, Sergeant," he growls, fisting Clifford's hair and spinning him until his chest slams against the wall.
He presses his cock against the round swell of Clifford's ass. A promise of what is to come.
Clifford's breath is tight in his throat as he drops his hands to his waistband.
"Not so fast," Travis' fingers tighten in his hair. "Hands where I can see 'em, Sergeant."
Clifford swallows thickly as he obeys, slowly lifting his hands and placing his palms on the wall.
"Good," Travis croons, his lips brushing the shell of Cliff's ear.
He kicks apart Clifford's legs before snaking his hands around his waist. His fingers slip across the buckle, ghosting over the firm outline below.
"Trav," Clifford groans, grinding his hips into the touch. His chest rises and falls erratically as Travis palms him through his pants. Eyes fluttering beneath heavy lashes, he gasps breathlessly.
Travis relents, quick fingers making short work of the buckle. He tugs Clifford's pants and underwear down as one before closing his fist around him. Warm and firm, it fills his hand as though made for him alone.
"You're already so hard for me," he breathes. "So eager."
Trav drags his thumb over Clifford's tip and he shudders. Slowly, Travis begins to move. His other hand falls from Cliff’s hair to trace the line of his throat as he grunts in time with the pumping of his fist.
Clifford claims his lip between his teeth, swallowing the moans that threaten to betray him. His forehead falls forward to lean against the wall as his hips jerk into Travis' fist. He trembles as Trav drags a single finger down the ridge of his spine, goosebumps skittering across his skin in its wake.
His throat dries as he hears Travis' zipper.
Travis sighs as he brings his empty hand around his cock. He strokes his length in tandem with Clifford's, his breath hot against his lover's neck.
"You want it?" He whispers.
Clifford nods.
"I can't hear you." Travis stills. "Speak up, Sergeant."
A rattling gasp shakes Clifford's chest. He swallows thickly.
"Yes."
"Yes, what?" Travis grins, tightening his grip on Clifford's length.
Clifford shudders.
"Yes, I fucking want it, Álvarez!" He barks, his voice echoing through the shelves.
Travis hums his approval, granting Cliff one last stroke before releasing him from his grasp. A fresh, medicinal scent fills the air as Travis pops open a small tin secreted from his pocket. He dips his fingers into the cool gel within before bringing them to Clifford's hole.
Cliff shivers as the lubricant meets his skin, never quite expecting the coolness of the aloe. He sighs as Trav traces the rim of his ass, slowly coaxing the tight muscles into relaxation.
Familiar fingertips wind through his hair and tighten.
"Fuck, Cliff," Travis rasps, his cock twitching as he lathers Cliff's entrance. He tugs on his hair, baring his throat before claiming it with his mouth. Hot and wet, he worships the corded muscle of Clifford's throat with his tongue. He drags his teeth against the sensitive flesh, nipping gently before soothing the hurt with the soft brush of his lips.
He presses the pad of his finger over Cliff's hole, gently applying pressure until it accepts him and smiles.
"That's it," he breathes, and Clifford curses sharply, his hips jerking senselessly. The hand in his hair drops to curl around his waist.
"Easy now," he warns, "don't go spilling before I'm done with you."
Jaw clenched, Clifford pushes his breath out through his nose. His knees quake as Travis slowly pushes his finger further in. He curls the digit just slightly before retreating and Clifford groans. In and out, in and out, Travis diligently works his finger deeper with every thrust. Only when he is satisfied, does he add another.
Clifford curses as he feels himself widen to fit the second digit. His cock jumps, his slit glistening with the threat of early release.
A deep ragged moan tears through his chest.
"Fuck, Trav," he gasps. "I need it."
Travis withdraws his fingers slowly and Cliff sags against the wall.
"Look at you," Trav croons, stepping back to admire the view. "Already such a mess… You can't even stand up straight."
"Fuck… you… Trav…" Clifford pants.
A dark chuckle skates across his senses as Travis palms his ass.
"Oh baby… you're about to."
His lips spread into a wide smile as he lathers his cock with the lube. He strokes his length, coating himself from base to tip before positioning himself behind Cliff. A shiver races up Clifford's spine and his breath trembles.
Travis groans as the tight warmth of Cliff's hole envelopes him. He drags his hips back before thrusting sharply and Clifford swears. A throaty chuckle dances within a breathy moan as Travis ruts his hips into Cliff's. Each thrust brings forth a new curse. They spill from Clifford freely, louder and louder as he forgets himself, his surroundings, everything but the searing heat of Trav's body on his.
One hand curled possessively around Cliff's hip bone, Travis reaches around to take him in hand. He pumps the stiff length in time with the thrusting of his hips, his breath hot and heavy in Clifford's ear.
"Let me hear you," he whispers.
Clifford knows better but right now, he's past caring.
He grunts roughly, surrendering himself to the rhythm of Travis' hips.
"Fuck—" he gasps, "Fuck, I'm going to—"
His head falls back against Trav's shoulder as his legs quake. White fills his vision as liquid starlight shoots through his veins. Travis' name is a ragged moan on his lips as hot ropes of cum hit the wall. He shivers as Travis milks him dry.
Not a second later, a throaty curse rips through the air as Trav's movements stutter. His fingertips press into Cliff's hips as he fucks him through his orgasm. Thick white spills from Cliff's hole as Travis pulls himself free and he collapses against the wall, panting.
"You'll be the death of me, Walton." He breathes, the smile on his lips evident in his voice. "But, I wouldn't have it any other way."
He tucks himself back into his trousers before retrieving a cigarette pack from one of the many pockets.
"Smoke?" He asks and Clifford nods.
He flicks open the lid and swears.
"Last one," he shrugs. "Sorry."
Flame licks his fingertips as he flips open his lighter. Smoke spills from his lips as he exhales and he allows his eyes to close. There is a shuffle of fabric as Clifford rights himself and Travis smiles. He lifts his fingers to his lips for another drag but Cliff beats him to it.
He brings his mouth to the filter and takes a long slow drag, his chin brushing the warmth of Trav's fingertips as he does so.
"Back to your post, Corporal." He swallows tightly, turning to hide the smile that curves his lips.
Without another word, he scoops up his rifle and disappears through the door.
Travis sighs, tossing the spent cigarette to one side, and follows.
I was recently possessed to draw a bunch of Major Knight of the Mojave Outpost. I hope y'all like him as much as I do. He is like a guy or perhaps some kind of dude to me, you see.
