Wicked Wednesday… on Thursday: Melt, m/m, NSFW

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A day late this week, but I wanted to get one done!

Another Water and Dust story for Kink Bingo. I seem to be writing them backwards, for this is set before Hideaway from the other week. This is for the food square, and is about 1700 words. This picture below is of a Splice, what they are eating in the story. As far as I know, you can’t get them outside of Australia and New Zealand (if someone in the UK would inform me otherwise, I’d be most grateful. 😉


“Fancy something sweet? I fancy something sweet.”

The words broke the silence of nearly an hour. Marc looked across the lorry cabin to Brendan in the driver’s seat, and blinked. “What?”

“There’s a service station up ahead, and we need to get petrol anyway — ”

Marc sighed, and passed over his credit card. He’d be claiming it back from Brendan’s father anyway, though considering how thus far he was failing in the job he’d been sent to do, it seemed somehow… off.

Still, paying for petrol and ‘something sweet’ wasn’t going to break Tobias Cavanagh’s bank. Even if the items came plated in gold.

Brendan’s eyes twinkled, and he took the card as the other hand stayed on the steering wheel. “Ah, Pa’s money. Even better.”

Marc frowned, sensing that Brendan was familiar with the situation. “This happened before?”

“What, been chased down by a fit fella from the Midlands on Pa’s behest?” Brendan’s eyes briefly left the road to wink.

Marc tried not to let the compliment warm him too much, but he couldn’t think how to respond without sounding stupid. He looked back out to the dusty yellow road, and considered this new info.

Tobias had said nothing about Brendan’s previous misadventures. Or rather, adventures that Tobias just didn’t approve of because they prevented Brendan from doing what Tobias expected of him. It did strike Marc as interesting that Brendan, for all his seething resentment of Tobias, still called him ‘Pa.’ The name was affectionate. None of the distance of ‘My Dad’ or even ‘My Father.’ Still ‘Pa.’

The service station stood alone on the road. Not large enough for the lorry to sidle up next to the petrol pumps, so Brendan swung it to park just further up on the roadside. He handled it with a strange ease – not a man used to the daily drive, but someone who was having fun with his awkwardness.

If they broke it, Walker would kill them for sure.

Brendan hopped out of the cabin, whistling as he went. Marc opened the window on his side, let some air in while they weren’t in motion. The road kicked up too much dust for them to want to keep the windows down while driving, and the air con wasn’t the best. At least the cabin was clean – Walker was a neat-freak, despite clearly spending much of his time living in it. The only scent that wafted out was the faint smell of sex.

That part had definitely not been in his remit. Nor would Tobias ever find out from him. He wouldn’t put it past Brendan though to use it as ammo to upset Daddy – I sucked off your man for hire, what do you think of that?

Marc groaned, and tried to turn his attention to getting his plan back on track. When that failed, he settled on shutting his eyes and trying to imagine that the hot desert breeze was a moorland wind, and that good old English rain was just a few clouds away. But when he opened them again, and the stark blue Australian sky still bore down on him, and the dryness of the land threatened to drain the very moisture from his bones.

Brendan opened the cabin door, plonked down two cans of petrol, and clambered in with some kind of ice cream in his hand, still in the wrapper.

Marc snorted. “Why not a chocolate bar?”

Brendan either ignored the barb or hadn’t noticed it, and just shook his head, mouth flattening like he chewed something sour. “They make it differently here so it doesn’t melt so fast. Not as bad as the real tropics where it’s practical wax, but still, the moment you get it out of the shop the chocolate will run all over your hand.”

“That will melt faster!”

Brendan winked, and tore off the wrapper, revealing a lime green block on a stick. “I know.”

Silver flashed as the wrapper tumbled to the cabin’s floor. Marc smirked, not sure if Brendan was naturally a mess, or if he somehow knew that it would piss off someone as tidy as Walker.

But whatever thoughts Marc may have had about Walker vanished when Brendan licked the block from bottom to top, his eyes fixed on Marc.

Marc swallowed, throat suddenly dry. He managed to ask, “Ice lolly?”

“Nah, this is a Splice. Got the fruity coating on the outside, and vanilla ice cream in the middle. You can’t get them back home, but they make them here.” Brendan licked down the slender side of the block, using the whole length of his tongue. That tongue, dart-like, and as Marc well knew, strong and demanding.

Marc crossed his legs, aware of his approaching hard-on, but not about to let Brendan see it. “Is it any good?”

Brendan started to nibble at the base of it, caressing it with his lips and nipping with his teeth. Already the flat of it was starting to drip, berry-like drops forming and rolling down the side.

“Delicious.” He took it from his mouth, and held it out for Marc. “Try.”

The words were like a command. Marc tried to force his legs closer together, but his cock really got in the way.

He shook his head. “I fine.”

Damn it his voice came out so soft.

Brendan leaned closer, the Splice hovering like a neon green beacon near Marc’s mouth.

“Go on. It’s really tasty. Take a bite if you can – I can’t yet, not warm enough, my teeth are too sensitive, but if you can…”

Brendan’s blue eyes were sparkling, but not with mischief. He actually seemed to want Marc to try the Splice for its own sake, rather than having a hidden agenda.

Marc edged forward, tentatively slid his teeth over the green top, and bit down. The flavour of lime mixed with pineapple filled his mouth, and he thought of a beach and lagoons. He left the desert, and instead was feeling ocean breezes. When it was followed by a tender vanilla ice cream, and mingled with the other flavour, he couldn’t stop himself from sighing, for vanilla made him think of comfort and cookies, homeliness.

He pulled back, rolled the chunk of ice lolly and ice cream in his mouth, and smiled at Brendan. He hadn’t had anything quite so tasty for a long time.

And the sod smirked back. “I wondered what you’d look like with a full mouth.”

Hot blood rushed through Marc’s groin as the cold sweetness slid down his throat. He grabbed Brendan’s wrist, and dragged him closer, snatching his lips into a fierce kiss. His free hand held Brendan’s face, and he tasted the lush vanilla, the tropical fruits, and Brendan’s own distinct flavour. The combination sent his cock from half-hard to raging, wanting to break free from his jeans.

It was Brendan who pulled back, panting, a rare expression of dazzlement on his face, his eyes fluttering.

“Fuck… Jesus Marc. Didn’t think you liked me.”

Marc’s mouth dropped open as a pang went through his chest. He went to say something, but the words didn’t come, as Brendan left the driver’s seat to huddle himself on Marc’s lap.

Brendan dabbed the Splice on Marc’s nose, then kissed the same spot, a delicious chill replaced by wet lips. Marc shivered, and reached with his tongue to lick the Splice between them. Brendan chuckled, and he joined Marc in licking the green, sweet ice. Their tongues met at the top, where the ice cream was now exposed. Marc avoided Brendan’s tongue, darting over the vanilla, teasing Brendan until Brendan forced a kiss.

They devoured the Splice between them. Brendan took a bite and shared it with Marc, them passing it back and forth as it melted in their mouths, dribbling between their lips. A half-hearted thought of the stain on his jeans came to Marc, but it was gone soon when Brendan, the Splice nearly gone in his hand, began unbuttoning Marc’s shirt.

Marc took the last bite of Splice, and shook his head. “No,” he said with a full mouth. “No.”

Brendan dropped the now-bare stick and frowned, childish disappointment marring his face. “What?”

Marc started to lift Brendan’s t-shirt. “Let me. Your turn.”

Brendan sighed. “It’s not about–”

Marc grabbed Brendan’s chin. “I want to taste you.”

For the second time, Brendan went weak in his arms. And for the first time since arriving in Australia, Marc was filled with a scorching surge of power.

It made it easy for him to get Brendan back onto the driver’s side, prop him up against the door. He rolled Brendan’s t-shirt up high enough, revealing small nipples, a shaved, smooth chest. Marc sighed, ran his hands down Brendan’s chest, sides, and stomach.

“Hot…” he murmured.

He met Brendan’s eyes. Brendan watched him with a tender nervousness, as if wondering what Marc might do, but wanting him to do it anyway.

Marc smiled. He pulled Brendan’s shorts and briefs down with a sharp tug, and fell upon Brendan’s hardening cock. It expanded in Marc’s mouth, and Brendan moaned.

It was fast. Marc would have normally indulged himself and the other man, but he wanted to drink Brendan down as soon as he could. Brendan too urged him on, his hand on the back of Marc’s head, grunting wordless and wantonly. When Brendan came in two long spurts, good sense fell by the wayside, and Marc drank everything he gave him.

They lay together for a long while, the desert air running over them as Marc let his cheek rest on Brendan’s hip. He held Brendan’s softening cock as if it were a precious creature about to run away, and Brendan brushed at the sweat on the back of Marc’s neck. Marc thought about speaking, about trying to ask what the hell this was they were doing. Because it was no longer Brendan’s wild scheme alone; Marc was a willing accomplice, and he’d be better off acting like one rather than the child who got dragged along for the ride. Nothing seemed right to say, so instead, he said;

“We’ll need to have a Splice again.”

He felt the reverberations of Brendan’s chuckle through his cheek.