Columbus isn’t sure what makes him start dreaming about Tallahassee. Maybe it’s Blaine’s, when Tallahassee hits that zombie with his bat. Maybe it’s when they find the Hummer, and Tallahassee goes wild with the new guns. Maybe it’s in Arizona, when the four of them have the time of their life destroying that gift shop. Maybe it’s in Hollywood, at Bill Murray’s house, when Columbus first sees Tallahassee in that snakeskin jacket. Maybe it’s when Tallahassee decides to go with Columbus to help the girls. Maybe it’s at Pacific Playland, after Columbus doesn’t feel anything from Wichita’s kiss and Tallahassee’s face lights up when Little Rock tosses him the last twinkie. Columbus isn’t sure what makes him start dreaming about Tallahassee, but he knows that he never wants it to stop.
It’s barely been two weeks since they left Los Angeles. They’d come across a small farmhouse in southern California, stocked with food, bottled water, beds, clothes, you name it, and Tallahassee had made the executive decision to hunker down for a few days, rest up before heading towards the Mexican border.
In something akin to a miracle, the place has running water, too. Wichita claims the shower first, and when she comes back to the kitchen, with clean hair, skin, and clothes, she already looks a thousand times happier. Tallahassee takes it next as Wichita and Little Rock start on dinner, Wichita futilely trying to remind Little Rock that they can’t eat it all at once. Columbus watches the sisters for a few minutes, appreciating how close the two of them are, when he hears the shower stop. He hauls himself out of the chair he was in and heads down the hallway toward the bedrooms in search of some fresh clothes. He’s wrestling a pair of jeans out of a drawer when a door creaking open behind him startles him. Columbus whips around, fists up in place of his gun. Fortunately for Columbus, it’s just Tallahassee.
Unfortunately for Columbus, Tallahassee is naked except for a towel around his waist.
Columbus stares, mouth open, in some sort of trance. Any words he could have said die in his throat, and all that comes out is a high squeak. He’d thought Tallahassee was attractive before, but standing here now, Tallahassee’s bare torso and legs right in front of him, water still rolling down his chest, Columbus knows he’s gone. Tallahassee is gorgeous and Columbus is much gayer than he originally thought.
“Somethin’ on your mind, kid?” Tallahassee asks, breaking Columbus out of his thoughts. Columbus blinks a few times, jaw working up and down, before shaking his head.
“No, uh, no, I’ll just, uh, I gotta, um,” Columbus trips over his words as he scrambles to pick up the jeans and the first t-shirt and pair of boxers he sees. “Shower,” he finally gets out, keeping his head down as he moves around Tallahassee into the bathroom, desperately hoping the older man didn’t see the effect he had on Columbus.
Columbus exhales when the door is locked behind him. He tosses the clothes onto the counter and makes sure there’s a clean towel in the bathroom. The last thing he wants is to have to go back into the room that has a potentially still-naked Tallahassee in it and embarrass himself further.
The shower is the best thing Columbus has felt in the two and a half months since he left Garland. He groans when the hot water hits his shoulders, soaking into his curls and practically melting the tension he hasn’t let go of since, well, ever. He can feel the blood and dirt running down his legs as the water pushes it away, and he grabs the bar of soap. He scrubs until his skin is pink and clean, from forehead to toes, and he feels so much lighter . Columbus examines the various bottles on the shelf before picking one of the shampoo bottles and working it into his hair. He can’t remember the last time a shower felt this good.
Not wanting to waste what could be a limited water supply, Columbus stops the shower as soon as the last of the soap is out of his hair. He wrings out the damp curls as best as he can before wrapping the towel around his waist and stepping out. He stands in front of the mirror for a minute or so, examining himself in a way he hasn’t in a long time. He’s lost some weight, due to food being limited to when he could afford to stop, but he can’t see his ribs so he figures that’s good. There’s a semi-fresh cut on his forehead from the zombie that previously owned the farm they were at, but beside that, he’s virtually unscathed.
Columbus shakes his head, clearing his thoughts, and moves on to getting dressed. The boxers he found fit fine, and the t-shirt he grabbed in his rush was just a plain white undershirt. He shrugs and yanks it on anyway. It’s not tight, but it’s more form-fitting than Columbus is used to, hugging his arms and showing off what little figure he has. He works on getting the jeans up his legs next. They’re also a near perfect fit, but whoever lived here must have had an affinity for tight clothes, since the jeans are nearly skin-tight. Columbus sighs. There’s not much he can do about it right now, not wanting to go through the drawers again.
He rubs his hair with the towel, getting it as dry as possible. Columbus’ pile of dirty clothes stares at him. Unsure what to do with them, he scoops up the pile and leaves the bathroom. The bedroom is (thankfully) empty. Columbus dumps his clothes in a pile next to what looks like piles Tallahassee’s and Wichita’s dirty clothes.
When Columbus goes back to the kitchen, he’s greeted with the amazing smell of boiled hot dogs and the sound of Tallahassee grumbling about damn farmers , and he realizes what Tallahassee means when he catches sight of the man in a red flannel shirt, tight around his biceps with the sleeves rolled up. Columbus is rendered speechless for the second time that day, and Tallahassee falls silent too when he looks up to see who’s there. Columbus stands there awkwardly as Tallahassee takes in the too-tight shirt and jeans, accenting Columbus’s ass and waist.
Wichita breaks the tension by setting a plate of hot dogs down in the center of the table, sitting as Little Rock brings over buns and, amazingly, ketchup. Columbus forces himself to move to the table, sitting between Tallahassee and Wichita. The kitchen is silent as the four of them practically inhale their first decent meal in weeks. When Little Rock finishes her second hot dog, she fills the silence by telling Tallahassee, Columbus, and Wichita about the movies and other stuff she found in the living room, some titles Columbus recognizes from when he was younger but others completely foreign to him.
Columbus can’t take his eyes off Tallahassee. Or, rather, he can’t take his eyes off the way the flannel makes his already-muscled arms look even stronger. Everything about Tallahassee screams strong: his arms, his chest and abs, his thighs. Columbus is sure that if Tallahassee wanted to, he could throw Columbus across the room. Or onto a bed. Or shove him down onto his knees and-
Columbus feels himself getting hard in his jeans and tries to force himself to think of something, anything , that isn’t related to Tallahassee using Columbus as he pleases. Key word: tries. Fortunately for Columbus, Little Rock’s rambling is distracting enough for Tallahassee and Wichita not to notice him.
Unfortunately for Columbus, she isn’t distracting enough to make Columbus stop thinking about sucking Tallahassee’s dick.
Columbus loses track of how long he sits there, lost in his thoughts, until someone kicks him in the leg. He lets out an eloquent “Huh? What?” before looking up and around the table.
“Shit, Columbus, are you okay?” Wichita asks.
Columbus looks at her in confusion, squinting a bit before loosening his expression when there’s a sharp pain above his eyebrow. He raises his hand up to touch it, hissing when he fingers come into contact with the cut. His fingers come away bloody, and he can feel it starting to slowly creep down his face. He must have been picking at it. “Oh,” he says.
Tallahassee swears when he sees the blood, standing up from his chair. He yanks Columbus up and leads him down the hall, back to the bathroom. Tallahassee rummages around in the cabinet under the sink, humming when he finds a first-aid kit. He sets the box down on the counter, then leans over Columbus to get a better look at the cut.
“The hell were you thinkin’ so hard about that you didn’t notice yourself rippin’ your damn face open?” Tallahassee turns Columbus’ face to one side, using his thumb to examine the extent of the injury.
“I, uh, I...” Columbus isn’t sure what to say. Tallahassee is right here in front of him, and he can still hear the clatter of dishes from the kitchen. “I was, uh, thinking about you.” The words are out of Columbus’ mouth before he can stop them. Tallahassee’s fingers tighten their grip on Columbus’ face.
“Thinkin’ about me, huh? What about me?”
Columbus looks down at his feet. “It, it was nothing, really-”
Tallahassee moves his hand from the side of Columbus’ face down to his chin, forcing Columbus to look up at him. “Don’t lie to me, boy. Mama didn’t raise no fool. What about me?”
Tallahassee’s blue eyes are intense. Columbus moves his gaze back down. “About how good that shirt makes you look,” he says.
Tallahassee chuckles. “The shirt?”
“Yeah, it uh, it makes your arms look really… good,” Columbus finishes lamely.
Tallahassee flexes the arm that isn’t holding Columbus’ face. “These ol’ things? That’s what’s got you all hot n’ bothered?” Columbus nods. “Well, I think that’s bullshit. You’ve seen these before. Hell, you’ve touched ‘em. Never got you like this.” Tallahassee grabs Columbus’ dick through his jeans, and Columbus yelps.
“You okay?” Wichita calls from the kitchen.
“Y-yeah!” Columbus shouts back.
Tallahassee shakes his head. “Gonna have to keep quiet, don’t want the girls to figure us out, do we?” Columbus shakes his head, Tallahassee’s hand still groping him. “Tell me what you were really thinkin’ about, Columbus.”
Columbus’ hips twitch, and he has to bite back a moan when Tallahassee tightens his grip. “I-I was, was thinking about y-you, when you got outta the shower earlier, just in your towel. You’re-re so strong, thought about sucking you, fuck, Tallahassee, please .”
Tallahassee groans low in the back of his throat. “Shit, kid. Get down on your knees.”
Columbus drops to his knees, looking up at Tallahassee expectantly. Tallahassee winds a hand into Columbus’ hair, fingers catching on the curls. “Go on, Columbus, get my dick out.”
Columbus reaches up with shaking hands, fumbling open the button of Tallahassee’s jeans and pulling down the zipper. He pushes Tallahassee’s jeans and boxers down some, just under Tallahassee’s ass, and pulls out the hard dick inside. Tallahassee’s dick is long and thick, just like the rest of him, and Columbus’ eyes go wide when he sees it.
Tallahassee rubs his thumb against Columbus’ hair. “You ever sucked dick before, Columbus?”
“N-no.” Columbus’ mind races. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s never done this before. He’s never done anything before, except kiss, but that doesn’t really help him right now. What if Tallahassee doesn’t want him anymore after this? What if he’s so bad that Tallahassee doesn’t want to see him ever again? What if-
“Woah, woah, kid, calm down,” Tallahassee says. He crouches in front of Columbus, hand moving to cup Columbus’ cheek. Columbus’ face goes hot when he realizes that he said everything out loud. “It’s alright if you ain’t done this before. Everyone’s gotta learn somehow. I ain’t gonna get rid of you if your first blowie isn’t perfect. Hell, we don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready. You understand me?”
Columbus nods. “Show me how?”
Tallahassee nods and stands back up. He holds his dick out for Columbus. “Go ahead and give it a lick, whenever you’re ready.” Tallahassee’s hand goes back to Columbus’ hair, and Columbus leans forward, wrapping his hand around it next to Tallahassee’s, and takes a tentative lick just under the head.
It’s not bad, Columbus decides. It tastes like, well, skin, sweat and salt and a bit of a clean taste from Tallahassee’s earlier shower. He licks it again, this time over the tip, and his taste buds are greeted with something salty and kind of sour, and Columbus realizes that it’s pre-come. Feeling a bit more confident now, he goes in completely and wraps his lips around the head, moving his tongue around to taste as much as he can. He sucks a bit, just to try it, and the hand in his hair tightens. Columbus moans around Tallahassee’s dick, and Tallahassee has to muffle his own moan with his hand.
Columbus smirks around the dick in his mouth and takes more into his mouth, scooting himself closer on his knees. Tallahassee uses Columbus’ hair to gently guide him back and forth, and Columbus takes the hint, bobbing his head, careful to keep his teeth out of the way. Columbus’ own dick is hard in his jeans, but he ignores it for the time being. Fortunately for Columbus, he didn’t blow his load the moment he got Tallahassee’s dick in his mouth.
Unfortunately for Columbus, Tallahassee starts talking.
“Fuck, kid, you’re a fuckin’ natural. Pretty little thing, lips wrapped around my cock, shit, s’like you were made for this. Just wanna fuck your pretty mouth, wanna ruin you, make you mine.”
Columbus looks up at Tallahassee through his eyelashes, groans around Tallahassee’s dick, begging with his eyes please, use me, make me yours .
And Tallahassee does. He thrusts his hips sharply into Columbus’ mouth, using Columbus’ hair to keep him still as he fucks Columbus’ mouth. Columbus gags a little bit, but then relaxes his throat and lets Tallahassee use him. Columbus lets his eyelids flutter closed when Tallahassee starts talking to him.
“Been thinkin’ about you for weeks, thinkin’ about this, then you go and come out in those tight-ass jeans and that shirt, lookin’ like the sexiest damn thing with your tight little ass. Fuckin’ jeans don’t even hide your dick, fuckin’ look at you. C’mon, take it out, get yourself off for me.”
Columbus reaches down to open his jeans, moaning when he finally freed himself from the confines of said tight-ass jeans. He pulls himself out of his boxers, stroking in time with Tallahassee’s thrusts into his mouth. Columbus comes after three strokes, moaning long and high over Tallahassee’s cock, come shooting over Columbus’ hand and shirt, eyes squeezing shut and face scrunching in pleasure. Tallahassee moves faster when he sees the mess Columbus has made of himself.
“Look at you, got yourself all messy, just from suckin’ my cock. You’re just a little slut for it, aren’t ya?” Columbus takes the last of Tallahassee’s thrusts like a goddamn champion, whining when Tallahassee pulls out to come on Columbus’ cheeks, lips, and chin. Tallahassee rubs his thumb over Columbus’ lips, collecting the come that landed there, and Columbus wraps his lips around the digit. “Fuckin’ perfect.”
Columbus is sleepy, and his eyebrow is hurting again, fresh blood hot warm on his skin. “Tallahassee, the cut’s open again.”
“Aw, hell,” Tallahassee replies. He tucks himself back into his pants before helping Columbus up to sit on the counter. Columbus winces when Tallahassee touches the cut, then tilts his head when he feels Tallahassee… painting? Columbus’ face. When Tallahassee finishes, he turns Columbus so he can see himself in the mirror.
Columbus gasps when he sees himself. There’s come and spit on his now-red lips, more come on his cheeks. The left side of his face has a trail of dried blood that goes from eyebrow to cheekbone. His eyebrow is still bleeding a little, but his forehead is what really intrigues him. Written across Columbus’ forehead, in his own blood, is the word MINE . “Mine?” Columbus asks, turning back to Tallahassee.
“Uh, yeah,” Tallahassee says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You were worryin’ that I was gonna get rid of you. I take good care of what’s mine, and you’re mine , Columbus. I’m gonna take good care of you.” Tallahassee pops open the first aid kit, pulling out a disinfectant wipe. “And I’m gonna start by cleanin’ up this mess you made of yourself.
Columbus stops Tallahassee, holding the older man’s wrist. “Shouldn’t you, uh, shouldn’t you clean the come off first?” Columbus keeps his eyes on Tallahassee’s as Columbus raises his come-covered hand to his mouth, licking himself clean. Tallahassee groans, because this kid is gonna be the death of him, and helps push the come on Columbus’ face into the boy’s mouth. When that’s done, Columbus smiles sweetly at Tallahassee. “That’s better. Carry on.”
Tallahassee rolls his eyes, bringing the wipe up to clean off the cut on Columbus’ face. “You’re a little shit, y’know that?”
“Yeah, I do. But I’m your little shit.”
“Damn right, Columbus. Damn right.”