Storm

Rainy night; storm approaching.  The Sniper found comfort in his bed, snuggled up against the Scout in his tiny camper van.  They lay so close together, their heartbeats could be felt against one another’s chests.

Lightning.

Thunder.

They paid it no attention, instead focusing on one another with their mouths together as they hungrily kissed one another, hands exploring sweaty skin illuminated only by candlelight.  Legs were intertwined and hearts were racing.  The blankets they lay upon were a wrinkled mess and falling from the bed.

The boy huffed and drew back for air, panting all the while.  Lightning crashed again and he huddled up against the larger man.

“What’s wrong?  Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little storm.”

“Shut up.  It just shocked me is all.”

Another flash and the younger male jumped again.  “Damn it,” he murmured as his face blushed a bright red as the Sniper erupted in a thunderous bout of laughter.

“You are scared!  I knew it!”

The Scout gave the bushman a mighty pout and turned his back to him.  The laughing ceased, and instead, there was cooing among chuckles.

“Y’know, you’re cute when you’re like that.”

“I am not cute!  And, I ain’t scared of no storm!”

The Sniper shrugged.  “Foine, you’re not cute.  You’re manly as hell.  Can we get back to the kissing already?”

The boy turned around again, pout still about his face.  “I don’t know; I’m mad at you now.”

Light kisses were planted along the Scout’s neck despite his pouting.  The Sniper had to keep from laughing; the boy was really cute when he was angry, but he had a remedy for that.  The youth’s face softened as the kisses continued, and he mustered up a quiet grunt of pleasure—at least, until a loud thunder seemed to rattle the camper van and he jumped again.

“Shit!  Give it a rest, will ya?!” the younger male yelled to the sky.  It merely roared back in fury, causing the Scout to slump his shoulders.

“Hey, it’s alroight,” the hunter cooed again, his arms moving around the boy and his lips to his ear, “I know how to make you forget all about this storm…”  He gave the boy no time to speak as hands moved to caress his chest and stomach, fingertips lightly tracing circles into hot flesh.

The Scout drew in a sharp breath and his back arched into the touch.  Their lips locked once more as lightning lit up the room for a fleeting moment.  Tongues danced and twirled about one another and the Sniper’s hand moved down lower to grasp the younger male’s member and slowly started pumping, causing the boy to moan into his mouth.

The rain hit hard against the side of the vehicle, but it was ignored as the Scout arched painfully on the bed, his hips thrusting in tune to the elder’s pumps.  His own hands made their way around the hunter’s neck; fingers dug into the skin there, leaving crescent-shaped wounds in their wake.  It only excited the both of them further and the Sniper continued with his ministrations, picking up speed and kissing the boy harshly.  The Scout kissed back, daring to take the bushman’s bottom lip and worry it between his teeth.

That drew the elder man over the edge, and he rose up and flipped the youth over, carefully inserting a finger into his backside while the other hand still worked over the Scout’s arousal.  Thunder rolled long and deep; another finger was inserted, making the boy pant like a hound.

“C’mon already,” the Scout whimpered, and the hunter obliged as he withdrew his fingers, spitting into his hand and coating his own throbbing member.  He then plunged into the youth’s backside, causing the boy to growl and moan.  Once he was used to the bigger man’s girth, the Sniper then began rocking back and forth, his hand never leaving the other’s arousal.

Lightning flashed again, illuminating the small space as bodies became one and rocked the camper van on its tires, the bed squeaking and the rain pounding.  But, no sound would be louder than the Scout’s moaning as the bushman pounded against him again and again and worked with the boy’s length.  Sweat glistened in the candlelight as the younger male’s body tightened with an approaching climax.

The Scout erupted in a series of incoherent phrases and the moan summoned a series of spasms as he spilled his seed on the Sniper’s hand.  It took only a few more thrusts and the hunter filled the boy with his own before collapsing on the bed next to him.

The only sound could be the men’s heavy breathing and the echo of thunder in the distance.  The storm had moved on, leaving the plains damp and muggy.  It did not matter, though; the Sniper was true to his word and made the boy forget the storm was there at all as they now lie side-by-side, gazing into one another’s eyes by way of candlelight.

At least, until the hunter blew it out, allowing the now-visible stars to guide them into slumber for the night.